


Breathless

by PaddyChan



Category: Naruto
Genre: Also not so brotherly love, Brotherly Love, Founders Era, Hashirama's a good guy, I'll have you know this was supposed to be a OneShot, Is this Slow Burn, Kinda has gotten out of hand, Konoha building, M/M, Morons in love, Mostly written between 11pm and 2am because who needs sleep, No Beta that's my Ninja-Way, The AU in which people realise Madara is too, idk you tell me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 03:26:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 57,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16846216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaddyChan/pseuds/PaddyChan
Summary: Forced to abandon their friendship due to the endless war raging between Senju and Uchiha, Hashirama and Madara are now facing each other on the battlefield as leaders of their clans.In one reality Madara has to mourn his last remaining brother, before being ultimately defeated by the Senju leader and losing the trust of his people.In another one, the odds are even worse.However, when Madara faints on the battlefield, Hashirama finds himself unable to kill the man he once considered his best friend. With Madara on the verge of dying, Hashirama decides to take matters into his own hands. And maybe, a single change is enough to steer fate into a different direction.





	1. Prologue

The metallic clash of swords echoed far in the early morning air. The smell of blood in his nostrils, the enemy’s face in front of him… except… “Madara! It’s not too late! We can still make peace! We can end this senseless slaughtering!” The Uchiha dragged in a rattling breath, before he forced himself to speak. “It was too late… before we were even aware, Hashirama!” The grip around his Gunbai’s handle tightening even further, the Uchiha leader charged towards Hashirama once more.


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because sometimes, things have to go down before they can get better.

Hashirama clearly remembered the day he first noticed.

It had been early spring, the first buds of the year starting to open. The sun had been shining down on them, rays already warm on his skin. The two clans had tactically avoided each other all winter. Supplies were always low, money tight and neither clan wished to battle the other on such unfortunate circumstances. 

However, the short months of something way too tense to be called peace had come to an end and thus, he found himself trading blows with the man he had been best friends with all these years ago. “Madara!” The Uchiha leader didn’t answer. He had never hidden his love for battle with Hashirama, usually being the first one to call out for him and dash forward. Instead, he wordlessly formed handsigns, letting dragon-shaped fireballs wind around the roots he had drawn from earth, burning them to ashes. When Hashirama charged forward to trap him into another fight of tai-jutsu to stop his raging fire from churning the ground even further, Madara was breathing hard.

Not that Hashirama’s breath didn’t quicken during their battle. Madara was a brilliant mind, a genius -on the battlefield as well as off- and much smarter than himself, as the Senju leader wasn’t too proud to admit. He was the only one Hashirama could match on eye-level in a fight, always keeping him on his toes. However, it usually took much more to have him show signs of exhaustion. Before he was able to deepen the thought, Madara charged at him again, most likely just to prove him wrong. He probably had fallen ill in winter and now had gone to battle without giving his body enough time and rest to heal. Stubborn Uchiha.

 

That night had been the very first time in years he dreamed of him again.

They were children, meeting at the river, Hashirama being overjoyed to finally meet the only real friend he had again. Madara talked about the village they would create. They would need to have some sort of ranking system for the shinobi living there, so nobody would be send to battles they wouldn’t get out of alive.

Hashirama had agreed, adding they’d need another rank specifically for children, when Madara got up and went to the river to relieve himself. Hashirama sneaked behind him, making his friend freeze. “You really can’t, eh?” He taunted, laugher dying down when Madara lost his footing and slipped off the cliff, falling into the river. There was no need to be worried, Hashirama knew. The other was a shinobi, just as himself, such a fall would harm neither of them.

“Madara?”, he called. “Are you alright?”

The raven-haired boy didn’t break to the surface.

“Madara?”

Black, tangled hair rose to the surface, face down and unmoving.

_“Madara!”_

Hashirama jerked out of bed, his own desperate call still ringing in his ears. His yukata clung to his skin, soaked with sweat and he roughly rubbed his face. A dream. Just a dream.

 

Their next encounter didn’t even take two weeks. 

It was a battle for territory, that once again had Uchiha and Senju clashing. The Nagishawa-river crossed both of their lands and thus, both clans rose claim on its waters, leading to yet another brutal clash between them. 

Sometimes, Hashirama wished nothing more than closing his eyes, pretending him and Madara were children again, friends, training to get better, strongest in their clans, instead of seeking to kill the other.

However, they already were. 

There was nobody stronger, mightier on the battlefield than the two of them. And fate, cruel as it was, had decided to find out who of them truly was stronger, who was able to kill the other, instead of simply knocking each other down.

Hashirama sidestepped a kick, trying to throw Madara off balance by hitting his collarbone in the very same move. The Uchiha evaded his counter, jumping back a few feet to gain space. He lifted his hands, having Hashirama prepare for another of his destructive fire-jutsu. They were too close to- A brutal coughing fit shook the Uchiha’s body, nearly making him go on his knees.

Without even thinking about it, Hashirama reached out for him. “Madara?”, he asked, knowing what he was supposed to do now. He had to press on the opening Madara was giving him, using the advantage he now had, the Uchiha’s defence down as another rattling cough shook him. That was what was expected of him, what every Senju on the battlefield was waiting for. And yet…

And yet.

Madara straightened again. “Retreat!” His voice sounded more breathless than Hashirama was used to, as the raven-haired man yelled out the order. “The river isn’t worth it!”

Within seconds, the Uchiha pulled back, taking seven wounded and two casuals with them. As usual, Madara was the last one to follow, protecting his clan’s back.

Hashirama stayed behind, looking after the man he had once been friends with.

 

It was later that evening when they were back in their own village, the wounded taken care of, that Hashirama couldn’t fight back his nagging thoughts any longer. Something didn’t feel right and his insides churched with desire to seek Madara out, to determinate what it was, that was wrong with him… but… maybe he was just overreacting. Tobirama often enough chastised him for being overprotective.

As if he’d known about his pondering -and he wouldn’t put it past him to actually do- his little brother entered, a bowl of stir-fry in each hand, setting one down on the small desk he used for any kind of paperwork, usually in matters of their purchasers. 

“Your desk is a mess”, Tobirama informed him, pushing some scrolls aside, before offering the bowl left in his hand to Hashirama. “I brought you dinner.”

The Senju leader smiled. Tobirama and him might be as different as day and night -whether it was their looks, their fighting style or their personalities- but there was nobody in this world he was closer to than his last remaining brother. “Thanks.” He took the bowl, as well as the chopsticks his brother offered, waiting for him to take the other dish and sit down with him.

The look Tobirama gave him was the closest one could get to rolling his eyes without actually doing so, before the younger Senju sat down next to him on the floor. Even though he was the analytical part of them, Tobirama wasn’t unaware about something bothering his brother. However, he wasn’t certain how much of that actually was due to his credit, since Hashirama’s emotions were basically an open book for everybody who cared to take a look (and sometimes those who rather wouldn’t, too, if he was honest). Yet, normally, his older brother tended to talk about whatever distressed him -at least to Tobirama, if nobody else. It was strangely unsettling to see him eat without even a trace of joy or the blabbering he had a knack to whenever it was just the two of them.

“Anija.” He put aside his now empty bowl. “What’s bothering you?”

He couldn’t have their leader pondering about nonsense, neglecting his position… and even more, he couldn’t have his brother do so all alone, feeling as though he had no one to turn to since he was clanhead. He might be charismatic and powerful -both essential traits for his position- yet at the same time… a little dense, to put it nicely. 

For a moment, Tobirama suspected his brother would try to negate, making the alarm bells in his head ring. Hashirama never hid anything from him. Except that one time at the river…

“Something’s wrong with Madara.”

Tobirama supressed a huff. He was an Uchiha, the question rather was what _wasn’t_ wrong with him. “What are you referring to?”, he finally asked, choosing the productive answer instead. Hashirama nibbled at his lower lip, clearly unsure how to answer correctly. “He’s… off”, he simply settled for, deciding at the very last second to evade revealing the Uchiha’s apparently waning health. “It just feels like something’s wrong.”

“Whatever it is, I can’t help you pinpoint it out, as long as that damned Izuna keeps me off. I’ll try to get rid of him next time.”

 

Tobirama didn’t get rid of Madara’s brother next time.

Nor the one after.

Hashirama however, was unsettled even more during their fights. Madara didn’t show weakness, not once left an opening again, always keeping Hashirama on his toes.

And yet.

Something was off. So very off, he had to fight the one part of him, the one that soughed to heal above all else, more than once during their already legendary fights.

The dreams got worse after each one.

 

Another daimyo seeking to enlarge his power, hiring the Senju to crush further resistance.

Another noble family seeking to stop him, hiring the Uchiha to put his approach to a halt.

Another battle of two clans seeking revenge, tearing each other apart, to make them pay for their loved ones’ death in blood.

The ground below was soaked in sweat, piss and blood, making the mud rise to their ankles. Hashirama leapt aside, blocking Madara’s katana with his own, making sparks fly between them. From the corner of his eye he could see Tobirama fighting Izuna, around them dozens of other clan members battling each other. There weren’t any casuals yet, a miracle of its own in this raging fight. Hashirama didn’t even know how long they were fighting already, having lost all sense of time, as he usually did during their battles. He pushed Madara’s blade aside with his own, forcing the Uchiha to retreat a few feet and Hashirama knew, _knew_ just months ago this wouldn’t have been enough to send the raven-haired man back.

However, before he was able to pounder any further about it, Madara forced him to counter another Katon, making him draw wooden hands from the ground to stop his rival’s giant fireball from tearing its way across the battlefield. It didn’t even take a whole second before the two leaders clashed again. Both, Uchiha and Senju members had long since learned not to get between the two powerhouses, if they didn’t want to get crushed in their midst.

Being this close again, Hashirama took in the Uchiha leader’s pale face. Madara had always been beautiful. Thin, elegant eyebrows topping his black -now red, Tomoe spinning- eyes, surrounded by pitch-black lashes. High cheekbones, underlining his regal features, that appeared slightly too slim for his taste. Lips perfectly curved and… blue. Hashirama frowned. Madara’s lips had taken on an unhealthy shade of blue, accompanied by wet and ratting breaths forcing their way from between them way too fast once more. However, this was even worse than the last times they had clashed.

Hashirama blocked a kick aiming for his calves, before forcing the Uchiha into a duel of tai-jutsu nobody else would have been able to keep up with. The battle already raged long, longer than most they had during the last year, as both of their customers had been willing to pay high for victory. 

Madara used his Gunbai to deflect one of his blows, forcing them to part again. The Uchiha landed in a skid, fingers already forming snake, then bear, forcing Hashirama to prepare for yet another of his giant fire-jutsu since he knew they would- 

“Madara!” 

His call tore across the battlefield even before Izuna’s panicked call of “Aniki!”, as he dashed forward to catch the Uchiha’s wilting body before he was able to fall face first into the mud. Wrong. So very, deeply wrong.

Hashirama went down on one knee, supporting Madara’s upper body. The first thing he noticed was -yet again- the Uchiha’s ratting, wet breathing. This close, it sounded even worse. His heart was racing, his lips blue, his skin sickly pale -even for him, who had always been of fair skin, other than Hashirama himself who was rather sun-kissed. Hashirama lowered a hand on Madara’s chest, sending glowing green chakra through first the armour, then the body beneath, to determinate what it was that very obviously was wrong with the boy he had been friends with as a child.

 _“Aniki!”_ Inzuna had managed to shake off Tobirama but was forced back by a large Suiton the younger Senju sent in his way. Hashirama, however, only distractedly noticed it, as he found the source of Madara’s struggling breath. The Uchiha’s lungs were filled with viscid fluids, probably making it hard for him to breathe even off the battlefield. In his lower lung, an infection had already festered, weakening it even further. However, there was no external damage on Madara’s body -aside from the ones he had obtained during their fight today.

Hashirama raised his head as he noticed how the fight around them had quieted down. Both, Senju and Uchiha seemed equally shocked the battle of their leaders did have a winner, as they had always parted in a draw, ever since they had met each other on the battlefield for the very first time.

“Hashirama-sama!” He recognised Fukito, one of the warriors whom had been close to his father, extremely experienced on the battlefield by now. He had been supporting Butsuma until he had died on the battlefield. The ash-blonde man appeared next to him, the Uchiha were still too shocked to stop him, while Izuna was kept off by Tobirama. “Finally. Now, end him! It will take a long time until these dogs are fit to hold a candle to us, if they ever will be. We have gained victory today!” 

Hashirama listened half-heartily, too focussed on examining Madara’s poor physical condition. His whole metabolism had suffered severely with the lack of oxygen. It was obvious this had been going on for a rather long time now, probably worsening with each passing day. His heart seemed rather healthy, most likely the reason he had still been up to fight, while his lung’s condition was a disaster. Hashirama noticed signs of healed infections, his bronchial tubes were stuffed with fluids containing bacteria, making every breath painful. He would have to fuse oxygen right into his bloodstream, while being careful not to apply too much pressure, as he’d tear Madara’s arteries from the inside otherwise. 

“Hashirama!” The missing honorific finally made him raise his head, staring straight at one of his father’s closest confidants; Masaru. He, too, was one of the clan’s most experienced shinobi, highly respected among the older warriors, as most of them shared his deeply conservative believes. “Kill that bastard. Now, before we can’t hold the others off any more!”

But what was there to hold off? The Uchiha had stopped fighting as soon as Madara had fallen, as had the Senju. But, once Madara was dead, they would only fight even more furious, attempting to revenge their killed leader. His clan expected him to end the cycle of hatred by killing the only one who had been able to stand up against him, yet that would only make things worse in the upcoming future. Others would stride after Madara, seeking to revenge him, to hurt and kill, feeding the blooming hatred.

And yet, beneath all that hate. All these fights. All the blood and madness… _Let’s build our perfect village to protect our brothers!_... Beneath all that… _I challenge you to a race up the mountain!_... Madara was… _Our clans won’t listen to weak pups barking. We’ll have to get strong, stronger than anyone else!_... Madara was still…

“No.” 

He didn’t notice Izuna stumbling into a halt, Tobirama turning on his heel, or Toka’s open mouth. None of it mattered. What did, was Fukito’s eyes hardening, as Masaru drew his katana. “Then, we will do.”

 

The roar seemed to tear across the battlefield even before Hashirama clasped his hands together, teeth grit, eyes wild with something not even Tobirama would be able to name. The ground itself shook, as it rose towards the sky, revealing the snarling face of a nin-jutsu none before had ever witnessed, a giant body rising ever higher, Hashirama on its head holding the still body of the Uchiha leader.

Masaru’s katana clattered as it fell to the ground.

The wood golem brought its fist down only once, roaring in destructive rage.

As the ground shattered beneath it, squelching the two Senju who had aimed to kill Madara, Hashirama was already back to infusing healing chakra and rising the oxygen levels in the Uchiha’s blood. The deafening silence of both, Senju and Uchiha soldiers, went unnoticed. Instead of trying to reach his older brother, Izuna stared up to him halfway on the Senju leader’s lap, on top of this… monster that apparently was his nin-jutsu. The golem didn’t even move any more, yet nobody dared to step any closer even before it rose its hand again, revealing the tattered remains of the two Senju who had opposed their leader.

All the way up, he could hear his brother taking in a ratting breath, before he was overwhelmed by a coughing fit. 

“Easy…” He could hear the Senju bastard, as he carefully rose his brother’s upper body. “Try to breathe slowly, you aren’t getting enough air.”

It didn’t help much.

Carefully, Hashirama lifted the Uchiha’s chest a little further to ease the coughing fits that shook his too thin body. He could feel his rips beneath his blue mantle. His body weighted close to nothing… this state was one of brutal neglection for himself and Hashirama had to bite his tongue to stop himself from chastising Madara for doing so. “I can’t treat your lungs sufficient enough, your health is too bad. Try to breathe slowly, I’ll infuse more oxygen into-” Unaware the shinobi below him could hear -maybe even unaware they even existed or where he was in his delirium- the Uchiha groaned. “Shut up… Idiot”, he mumbled, eyes still closed, as his wet breaths finally slowed. Hashirama sighed in relief.

“Your lungs are filled with fluids, severely infected and you’re underweight.” Hashirama, frankly spoken, didn’t care who listened, still focussed on his rival. Madara’s state was disastrous, how did he let himself get this far? And yet, even in his waning health, there was nobody expect himself who was able to face him without getting defeated within minutes. How had he been able to stand his ground in that state?

The Uchiha’s brows furrowed as he exhaled, sinking further into Hashirama’s lap without fully realising what was happening. “My lungs were always bad. But they got worse around a year ago… I couldn’t cough up whatever’s inside anymore”, he mumbled, eyes not even opening.

“You could hardly even breathe”, the Senju chided. “What were you thinking? Madara! Did you want to die in this fight? You knew you were getting worse, that’s why you tried to avoid tai-jutsu! There was a high chance for you to-” “Izuna would’ve taken my place”, Madara interrupted, coughing once more and spitting a mouthful of yellowish fluid next to him, forcing his eyes to open, staring into Hashirama’s in a way that felt… off, somehow. “You would’ve crushed him with hardly a fight.” 

The younger Uchiha might have been offended by that, if it wasn’t for that Mokuton-monstrosity in front of him. 

“I couldn’t-” “So you went into battle in that disastrous state of yours, day after day? Madara! It was only a matter of time until you’d black out! If anybody else-” Hashirama stopped his rambling, once he noticed the Uchiha had done exactly that once more. His unconscious form invited to rank his eyes across him, and he had to stop himself from doing so, before gathering him in his arms.

Slowly, the wooden golem sunk back to the ground, the monstrosity seeming nearly hesitant to leave its Master alone in this mess. As Hashirama stepped down from the golem’s head, neither Senju nor Uchiha dared to move, even less get in the way of the Senju leader, who carried Madara’s unmoving form in his arms. The Uchiha’s head had fallen against his chest, making his mount of hair covering his face.

“The Senju will cease further fighting right now. Madara is in no condition to battle any longer. If there are any Uchiha wishing to oppose me, I will meet them heads-on.” Hashirama’s voice left no room for arguments. Without even realising what he was doing, he carefully stroke back a straying strand of Madara’s hair that had tangled in a clasp of his armour. When no one stepped forward, he rose his voice. “This senseless war is over. _Now!_ ”


	3. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Old people giving zero fucks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoever guesses what exactly Madara suffers from gets an imaginary cookie.

On the eastern side of the great forest, an open, grassy area was the natural border between Senju and Uchiha territory. Both clans carefully made sure to keep the large, grass-grown plain clear, in order to prevent tactical hiding spots for the other. 

Now, a single wooden house, standing out like a sore thumb, had been erected in the middle, a single tree next to it. Uchiha and Senju had retreated to their secret villages, as they had been told to by Hashirama. The Uchiha had obeyed, since Hashirama frankly spoken held their leader hostage (besides, there was no one strong enough to oppose him anyway). The Senju did the same, since… Hashirama was their clan-head (and no one wanted to be crushed by a giant fist anytime soon).

There were only seven people entering the plain, as they had been ordered to. Or rather, asked, since neither, Hashirama nor Madara, were able to actually _order_ the elders of their clans to do anything. To get old in times like these, shinobi needed to be clever, strong, and above all: stubborn. All of them had been around when their leaders had been born -hell, Hibiko had actually been the one to _help_ Hashirama being born- and thus, they could be hard to deal with. 

However, in this… situation, the five elders -three of them Uchiha, two Senju- had decided to follow their leader’s orders -or rather, Hashirama’s, since Madara had still been unconscious- and made way to the single wooden house on the plain between their territories, accompanied only by their clan’s co-leaders. 

From the north-western side, Akiyama and Hibiko made way across the short grass, led by Tobirama.

From the eastern side, Itsuko, Sarana and Makoto stepped closer, Izuna in front of them. 

None of them spoke and in the heavy silence, since even the wind had decided to lay low, the voices from inside the hut sounded all the way across the grass. 

“So that’s it? You just wait until I fall unconscious to go around and declare peace in the middle of a fucking war?” 

“You passed out cold! What was I supposed to do?”

“Don’t you dare to-” A hit of painful, struggling coughing interrupted what was supposed to be one of Madara’s infamous outbursts of temper.

“Easy… here, take- all right, then don’t.” Hashirama’s voice got quiet, hard to hear even with the silence surrounding them. “I knew something was wrong, but I didn’t… Madara, when you took these herbs to supress the coughing, your lungs got only worse because you didn’t get rid of the secretions inside anymore. You were drowning with your clothes dry.”

All the way across the plain Izuna froze, even though he’d sworn himself he would keep his posture. 

“Then what was I supposed to do?” Madara sounded strangely beaten. “There was no way I was able to fight with these fits. I had to avoid Izuna taking my place at all costs!”

“Peace!” Hashirama sounded nearly desperate. “We should’ve made peace, Madara, instead of you wearing your body down to nothing!”

There was a pregnant pause, before Madara took in a rattling breath. “This won’t work out.”

“It will!” Hashirama’s voice didn’t even carry a hint of doubt and for a long while, he didn’t get an answer. However, when he did, all seven (ex-)shinobi outside stopped in their tracks. 

“The last time you said that, we were kids meeting at a river, dreaming of a perfect village to protect our brothers in.”

Of course, rumours had made rounds after the incident at the river where they had been forced to separate as enemies. Some said, they had met as children, not recognising the other as who they were and which clan they belonged to. Others mused they already had been fighting in a previous life, driven by the well of hatred between their clans. Thirds thought they simply met by coincidence again and again, deciding not to battle as each other as they were of equal strength. 

Even Tobirama and Izuna didn’t know the real intensity of their friendship, of the dreams they had shared all these years back.

“You see?” Hashirama’s cheery voice cut the suddenly strange feeling air. “I told you!”

“And then you decided to climb a tree to steal some honey from a bunch of wild bees and lost your ugly trousers when you fell down.”

The three Senju outside didn’t need much imagination to see their leader’s head drop and a heavy cloud slam right onto it. “Ah… I hoped you might have forgotten that…”

“The image of your naked ass has given me nightmares ever since”, Madara gave back brutally, before changing the topic. “When is the meeting with the elders due?”

“Oh… right now, actually.”

Madara was silent for a second, casting out his senses -Hashirama wouldn’t even notice if one snuck right behind his back; his sensory qualities so low they were basically backwards. It didn’t even take him a second to fly right into rage upon realising where their expected visitors were. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, you moron, I can’t believe you didn’t even-” Just as the house’s two door opened -opposite of each other, so neither Senju nor Uchiha had to leave their back open to each other while entering- another brutal coughing fit shook the Uchiha leader, squeezing whatever little breath was left out of his lungs.

“Aniki!” 

However, before Izuna was able to get to his brother, Hashirama had already carefully caught the Uchiha’s frail frame. “Hush… Didn’t I tell you not to get riled up? You don’t have energy left to spare!” As Madara attempted to calm down, trying to even his breaths, the coughing merely got stronger. 

“Shit!” Quickly, the Senju leader laid a glowing hand on Madara’s chest. The lack of air had him hyperventilating, causing his already weak lungs to fail even further. “It’s alright, I’ve got you… I’m sorry I forgot, hush…” He carefully held Madara’s back -much more delicate than his own, each dorsal prominent- to ease the stiffening muscles. 

Izuna grit his teeth as the Senju-dog touched his brother. How dare he? He had killed adult Uchiha when he had just been a child, their blood was on his hands forever. The very same hands, that now held Madara’s back, keeping it upright until he had calmed down. Izuna wasn’t ignorant. Nor was he blind. He knew, something had been wrong with Madara. He rarely trained with Izuna anymore and if, he insisted on either Gen- or Nin-Jutsu. Whenever there had been a flu, cold, or fever going about, it hit Madara worse than any of his brothers. He had had four cases of pneumonia -at least that was the number the younger Uchiha was aware of. Even if he was in good health, he tended to have coughing fits, which he very carefully hid from anyone -even him. Yet, whenever he had tried to talk to Madara about it, his older brother had simply waved it off, telling him he worried too much, before changing topics straight after. But he didn’t have any idea how bad his brother’s health had waned, until he had passed out on the battlefield, at the hands of Hashirama. A part of him scourged itself for not realising how very bad his brother’s health had gotten. However, he knew if Madara didn’t want anybody to find out, no one would. His older brother was nothing if not master minded.

Tobirama, from the other side of the room, watched, too. He knew, Hashirama had never gotten over the way him and that blasted Madara had parted at the river all these years ago. He had never blamed his younger brother for outing his secret, but he did mourn the Uchiha more than he should. Hashirama held on tight to those he cared about. Well, that wasn’t entirely true, since his brother basically cared about everyone he met -bless and curse his way too kind heart- but those closest to him, he would protect with his life. 

It was Sarana, who finally broke the silence. She was the only one of the five eldest whose hair hadn't turned white, the tightly pulled back black locks a strange contrary to her wrinkled skin. “So”, she huffed, gruff, as if she was just complaining about the aches her back gave her with age. “You’re the one who declared the war over, abducting our clan-head minutes after. You do realise, your actions speak different from your words?” The way she said it, one might think she chastised a child whom she had caught sneaking away with the cookie jar. 

Itsuko snorted. “He is a Senju, what did you expect? It is no secret they are more brawl than brain.” His voice didn’t sound a day older than thirty and he nonchalantly took out the pipe he had stored in his yukata. 

Akiyama narrowed his eyes. “Maybe you should use that brain you apparently claim to have, considering whom you’re talking to.”

He was answered with another snort by Itsuko, followed by huffed laugher from Sarana’s wrinkled lips. “All five of us have lived their life longer than most, outlived all of our fellow clan members by years. Let us be honest, death is no threat to any of us anymore.”

“I hope we will be able to end these negotiations _any_ death-threats”, Hashirama cut in. Madara scoffed. “You do realise, wandering off with me after deciding to end a war raging for centuries doesn’t make this meeting _negotiations_.” 

“But it does.” Tobirama’s red eyes remained unimpressed as he spoke up for the first time in this room. “It simply renders your position a weak one.”

The Uchiha leader’s eyes flashed red. “How dare you-” “Tobirama.” Hashirama stepped in before the situation escalated any further, as he was very well aware it would. “Madara’s health has waned for months -years, actually. Yet, it’s no secret he was -still is- the only one able to put on a fight against me, battle after battle, until his lungs finally gave out today. That alone makes his position anything _but_ weak.”

“Enough of this nonsense, it leads nowhere.” Makoto’s remaining left eye fixated the Senju leader, who nearly expected to see her Sharingan spinning. “Why didn’t you kill Madara on the battlefield?” Honorifics were useless at this point, she decided. They had gotten past that before the meeting even started.

Six and a half pairs of eyes piercing him, Hashirama was at a loss for words. Yes, indeed… Why hadn’t he? Because he couldn’t bear the thought of killing the one who had once been his best friend? Because he hadn’t given up hope? Because Madara had been helpless, unable to fight anyway? Because... because… “There was no way making peace by spilling even more blood”, he finally settled for, as it was the truth -even through merely a part of it. “It’s because you’re a moron”, Madara grumbled, coughing once more. “That’s why, you ninny.”

“You’re not helping, Madara!”

“I did my fair share of helping you, after we searched your sandal for two fucking hours when you lost it in the river.”

“You threw me in!”

“I told you not to stand behind me!”

“How’s it my fault you can’t even p-” Madara’s elbow met the Senju leader’s guts, making him wheeze. 

Yes, Tobirama thought wryly. This was the reason Hashirama didn’t kill the Uchiha. This, and this alone, may he deny it as much as he wanted. 

Itsuko dragged on his pipe, puffing seemingly without a care in the world. “Weren’t we asked here to talk about cease-fire?”, he asked, when the Senju leader blabbered complaints about unfair moves and how it hadn’t even been his fault. 

Hibiko, who had been silent to far, finally spoke up. She was undeniably by far the oldest amongst them. “You cannot possibly take these youngsters serious.”

Sarana huffed. “It seems, we actually agree on something, Senju.”

“I lost both of my sons to the Uchiha”, Hibiko stated, making the elders, as well as Izuna and Tobirama next to them go tense.

Makoto’s sole eye turned cold. “If you expect pity, you are wasting your breath. There is none amongst us who didn’t lose family to the Senju.”

The old Senju didn’t even blink, however, kept silent for a beat, before going on. “None would have been lost, if not for this war.”

The silence between them was thick enough to be cut with the dullest of kunai and in the end it was Hashirama, who broke it. “This war has been going on and on for centuries, each of us killing the other, feeding the hatred and grief. I will end it.” His eyes flickered to Madara, whose breathing sounded nearly even by now, without him even realising what he was doing. The elders however, didn’t miss so easily. “I can do without you”, he stated, his voice growing hard for once, the sheer infinite amount of chakra flaring, before the brown pools warmed again. “But it wouldn’t be the same. I wish for both clans to seek peace. Just imagine… there would be no other clan daring to go against us, Senju and Uchiha united. The fights will die down. We could have peace! Peace for our children, finally!”

“Except your future children aren’t the ones you seek peace for, Hashirama”, Hibiko noted, making her clan head turn towards her in confusion. Sarana stole Itsuko’s pipe, dragging in a deep breath of smoke, before returning it. “I have always chastised our clan head for his temper, but at least he’s not as dull as yours.”

“Hey!”

“It’s too much to ask for brains to go with power”, Akiyama agreed. “If one of them had both, we wouldn’t be stuck here.”

“You’re supposed to be on my side”, Hashirama lamented, making the old man scoff. “I have been on your side when I didn’t tell Hibiko you tried to steal her sealing scrolls when you were nine.”

“He did _what?!_ ”

A large drop of sweat rolled down the Senju leader’s cheek. “Ahaha… M-Madara, what do you think of this? Would you agree on making peace, finally?”

Madara was silent. Long. Longer than expected. So long in fact, that Hashirama started fidgeting on his cushion. When he finally spoke, his voice didn’t waver. “When we were children, we weren’t powerful enough to make peace. When we grew up, we were. But the older I got, the more I realised attempting to make peace would make the clan fall out, eventually, as many would severely disagree.” He knew Izuna would have been one of them, hating the Senju with fierce passion. “I couldn’t risk the Uchiha falling apart. As my health got worse, I knew they would follow me into a cease-fire even less. I had to prevent Izuna from taking my place as clan-head at all costs. There’ll be a cold day in hell before I’ll allow for him to battle with you.” His eyes burned with a fire, irises smouldering black and hot. “I decided to do the only thing I could: Fighting you until the very end. Until I’d take my dying breath upon your hands, the only one worthy.” 

He turned to his younger brother, who stood next to Makoto, face frozen. 

“Izuna.” His voice was soft, as if they were children again, Madara telling him the nightmares wouldn’t harass him anymore, because he was there to protect him. His older brother hadn’t spoken to him like that in a very long time. “If you decide this attempt for peace is treacherous, we will leave right away and never speak of it again. I am not of much use in a fight any longer, my days as clan-head are running out. However; I will do everything in my power to help you as you take over. I will protect you with my dying breath, no matter what.”

Izuna swallowed, willing down the tears stinging in his eyes. He hadn’t cried ever since… he couldn’t remember when he’d cried last. Madara… Madara was everything he had left. Three brothers dead, killed by the Senju, massacred, maimed… tearing his heart apart further with each body they had buried -or rather, what was left of them. “Aniki… I… I…”

_Crack._

The younger Uchiha flinched, head whipping around. Hashirama had released his hold on Madara, his palms on the floor now instead. His forehead had hit down hard enough to crack the wood beneath it, making his hair spill over the ground, as he bowed -cowered- in front of him. “Izuna!” Hashirama didn’t raise his head. “I know you have lost all of your younger brothers to the Senju. I am sorry. So deeply, deeply sorry… if there was a way, I would undo everything that happened, I would protect them with my life, I swear! If it is my life you want in exchange, I will give it to you instead. But…” His voice was nothing but a whisper by now. “Please… I beg of you… Please.”

Izuna took in a shaking breath. Peace with the Senju… what a joke. All it would do was getting his clan get stabbed in the back, the aftermath hitting Madara worst. They should go back. Back to their village, where they belonged, protecting the children, protecting the clan. There had to be a way to overcome Madara’s illness. He hadn’t told anyone of it, surely there was a cure somewhere. They would seek out the best doctors, no matter the price, the best healers, no matter where. Except… except the world’s best medical shinobi was right in front of him, face pressed into the wood at his feet. What a joke, again. 

“Can you heal him?”

Hashirama still didn’t look up. “I don’t know if I can fully heal whatever sickness sticks to him, but I can nullify the damage done and prevent further from happening. However, I need time. His body is too weak for treatment right now, his condition is too unstable; his lungs have been failing twice today already.”

Izuna’s hands balled into fists. “I need you to… I need you to heal him. If this attempt for peace is what you require for payment, I don’t care. Just… heal my brother, Senju. Because if you don’t, I will make you regret it.”

The Senju clan-leader lifted his head, eyes hard and determined. “I swear.”

Senju Hibiko walked across the room, took Itsuko’s pipe and dragged in a deep smoke, before returning it to the Uchiha. “Peace it is, then.”


	4. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Totally straight Hashirama doing totally straight things because he’s totally straight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, some of you actually took a guess about Madara’s sickness. I didn’t think anyone would care enough to do so. Thank you, guys, for all of your lovely reviews!  
> Since none of you got it quite right, here’s another clue. Starts with M and is an inheritable disease based on genetic mutation(s).

Four fucking days.

That’s how long it took for Senju Hashirama to get two clans full of sworn enemies to come together in a village build out of wooden houses in the middle of the forest, hanging up two banners with a Senju and Uchiha clan-emblem and getting said clans assembled below them. It was quite impressive, actually. Or at least it would have been if Hashirama wouldn’t be waiting under his clan’s banner, beaming like a nuclear explosion and nearly bouncing on his feet with barely supressed glee. It took some of his dignity. No, scratch that. Most of it. All of it. But he never had a lot to begin with, didn’t he?

Madara stepped forward from the rest of his clan to meet Hashirama under the Uchiha banner. As a sign of trust and good will, both leaders didn’t wear their armour, a gesture their fellow clan members had decided to follow. For a few moment, the two clan leaders stood in front of each other, none of them moving. They could feel their brothers’ eyes burning in their backs, as well as the ones of each and every clan member. This was a historical day, something none ever even dared to envision… and it would either bring peace or ultimate destruction.

Hashirama offered his hand.

Madara took it, his palm cool in the Senju leader’s warm fingers.

This was what they had dreamed of, years and years ago. The thought nearly brought tears in Hashirama’s eyes. “From this day on… we will be brothers!”

At the other side of the great place, Senju Hibiko once again stole Itsuko’s pipe, making the old Uchiha grumble in annoyance. “That idiot just doesn’t get it.”

Sarana huffed. The five elders had been the only Uchiha and Senju members mingling together, as they stood a little outside, between the facing clans. “We’ll be pushing daisies before one of them gets even close.”

Itsuko snatched back his pipe. “Get your own one, you old hag. I’ll gift you one for your next birthday. If you live that long, it is.”

“Get me one, too”, Akiyama grumbled. “Kami knows I’ll need it.”

“Fuck off.”

 

As it turned out, Uchiha and Senju had rather different concepts of comfort. Whereas the Senju preferred to spread over a large area, gardens and ponds that would flourish as the year went on between their houses, in order to avoid breathing down each other’s necks, the Uchihas’ houses barely had any space between them. He suspected that way they felt more protected, however; even for him, who was a rather touchy person (yes, yes, he knew, Tobirama chastised him often enough about it), this lack of personal space was too much. But well, everyone adapted in their own way and as long as the Uchiha were comfortable, everything was fine.

Hashirama felt various Uchihas’ wary stares stinging at his back, as he walked down the main street, heading towards the building at the Uchiha compound’s centre. None dared to whisper about the Senju leader as he made his way to the clan leader’s house. He had a suspicion about why Madara had been able to make it through the official unification ceremony and the following banquet without even coughing once. How often did he have to tell him; it was indispensable Madara coughed up the fluids clogging his lungs! He was working on getting the infection under control, but with the large amounts of bacteria infesting the mucus inside his lungs, there was no way to get that far if his stubborn Uchiha refused to cough at least something up and getting rid of it that way. Besides, there was still the fact that his clogged lungs weren’t working nearly sufficient enough.

Lost in thought, Hashirama only realised he was already down the road and had kind of forgotten knocking when he already entered the house. The inside was light with candles as the newly build wooden-houses had neither electricity nor running water. They would take care of that as soon as possible. For now, it was most important to get every family their own house to live in.

Hashirama frowned as he looked around. The house’s insides were as spartan as everyone else’s at this point; it would take some time to move all of their belongings from their old villages to their new one. Izuna was nowhere to be seen, but that was to be expected. The Uchiha had decided to leave three guards at a time at their old village as long as they still had any belongings at the place. Izuna had decided to accompany them for tonight.

Frowning, Hashirama slipped off his sandals and entered. 

No Madara. 

He made his way to the kitchen (or rather what would be the kitchen in a few more days), then to the living room.

Still, no Madara.

Did something happen? Had Madara decided to leave, too? Did he need some time for himself? In a last attempt to find his friend, Hashirama made way upstairs to where he knew the bedrooms had to be. Apart from a futon and a dresser, the room was mostly empty, but he recognised Madara’s mantle that looked rather neglected as the Uchiha leader had carelessly dropped it on the single chair next to the window. Still, where was-

_Splash._

Hashirama stiffed. Was that…? He listened closer and some more noises followed, quieter ones, yet they clearly indicated water moving. Madara took a bath. Lucky one, he could at least heat the water by himself before washing. But well, Madara’s skin was a little too cool for his liking anyway, some warmth would help. He also was too pale, even though Hashirama couldn’t do but admire the snowy skin contrasted by the dark clothes his friend mostly was clad in. The mental image of Madara’s pale skin flushed by the water’s heat put a smile on his lips. He would finally look healthy, glowing, once he was done scrubbing himself, water running down his chest; slimmer that Hashirama’s, rather designed for speed but raw power and- 

“What the fuck are you doing in here?”

Hashirama blinked stupidly at his friend. The Uchiha glared at him, standing in the doorway to the bathroom, clad in a comfortable yukata that probably was meant for sleeping, his mane of hair still wet, blue streaks mixed with back shining in the candlelight. “Uhm…” He was barefooted, his feet way more elegant that Hashirama could ever hope his own to be. A dancer’s feet, he thought. And his dance brought the most beautiful way of destruction. “Uh…”

Madara’s eye started to twitch. Uh-Oh… Oh, shit. Uhm… “I wanted to check on you”, Hashirama blurted. The twitch got worse. Oh shit, oh shit. “Then get the fuck out of my house and check up on Tobirama if you feel like annoying the living hell out of someone!”

Finally, Hashirama remembered the actual reason he had been worried in the first place. “You didn’t cough all day.”

“No, I didn’t. But if you insist, I’ll cough right up in your face, if it makes you happy and leaving.”

Hashirama frowned. “I’m serious, Madara. You didn’t cough once all day. Not during the ceremony, at the banquet or anytime until the evening. Did you take your herbs again? I can’t help your body getting rid of the bacteria if you refuse to expectorate the mucus floating your lungs!”

“So, what was I supposed to do?” The Uchiha stepped closer, glaring at him. The fact that he was shorter than the Senju leader didn’t make it any less murderous. “Standing in front of you, coughing my lungs out, while you talked about us having created a village of two clans on eye-level? Refusing the soup at dinner because I knew it’d just send me into a coughing fit? My people are wary enough of this union! I mustn’t feed it by displaying weakness at that moment!”

So proud.

Hashirama sighed, wary. The Uchiha were a prideful clan -probably even more so than the Senju- and Madara was their leader. Of course, he had to be proudest. “Lay down. I’ll take a look at your lungs. I don’t think this day has done them any good.”

Madara opened his mouth, about to tell Hashirama to fuck off, before it occurred to him the stupid Senju wouldn’t have it. That bastard was nothing if not persistent. He was deadly tired and the fastest way to get Hashirama out of the house was probably to let him do… whatever he did. “Fine”, he huffed, getting down on his futon. “Just be quick about it.”

The Senju beamed at him, making Madara roll his eyes. What was wrong with Hashirama and his moods? And worse, why was he even friends with this moron? He’d better get a dog, they obeyed at least if told to fuck off. Couldn’t have worse puppy eyes than Hashirama, anyway.

Said Senju carefully knelt beside Madara, waiting for him to settle down before lowering a glowing green hand on the Uchiha’s chest. The fluids he had watered down somewhat last time already were hard and sticky again, clogging Madara’s bronchial tubes. “The infection has gotten worse”, he noted darkly. If nothing happened, it was only a matter of time until it turned into a full-out pneumonia. “Does breathing cause you pain?”

“No.”

Hashirama sighed. “Are you in pain if you don’t take your herbs?”

No answer.

“Madara!”

“… Yes.”

Stubborn Uchiha. 

“Normally, I’d try to beat the infection first. But it’s useless since it’ll start all over due to the large amount of bacteria in the mucus sticking to your lungs. And I can’t get rid of that because your lungs would most likely collapse under the stress. The only way is to water it down as far as I can, so you can cough it up. But that’s useless if you take those herbs to supress your coughing-reflex!”

“I got that the first time you told me”, Madara growled. “I’m not stupid… unlike other people in here.”

Hashirama pouted. “I’m trying to help, you ungrateful Uchiha.” Carefully, he infused more chakra. Since the day had gone without any fighting whatsoever (not even verbally), Madara’s oxygen level was acceptable at least. Carefully, Hashirama went to work on the fluids inside his friend’s lungs. He had to try to clean his bronchial tubes at least a little to ease Madara’s breathing. If Madara got over that thick head of his, he might be able to get rid of the mucus within a couple of weeks. As they progressed, he would be able to finally treat the pestering and certainly painful infection.

“Your pulmonary tissue is scarred”, Hashirama noted quietly. “I don’t think I’ll be able to get the deformed parts working again even after you’re better. I would have to redo the damage and regrow the original state. You’ll probably have to deal with a decrease in oxygen diffusion capacity in those areas.”

Madara huffed, coughing a little, as Hashirama’s work started to bear fruit. “I didn’t expect to live past the coming winter”, he stated, making the Senju flinch. “I’ve had six cases of pneumonia I’m aware of -I don’t know about some more, they didn’t act up enough for me to care.”

But he should have! It wasn’t as if Madara had a body in reserve he could just switch to if this one gave out. He had to take care of it! “Everything else comes first for you, hm?”, Hashirama murmured, his other hand resting on Madara’s throat, glowing green, in order to prevent his coughing fits from getting to harsh. “Your brother, your clan… You need to stop neglecting yourself. See, what it does to you.”

Madara gave a bristly laugh, interrupted by ugly coughs ripping out of his mouth. “That coming from the guy who offered Izuna to kill him if he wanted to.”

“Oh, shut up, you’re just as bad.”

For a while, both clan leaders kept silent, Madara’s chest being slowly warmed by the Senju’s chakra. Night had fallen hours ago, it had been a long day and neither knew what tomorrow would bring. Would everything go smooth? Would their village grow? They had planned on installing running water within the next week for everyone. After that, they would need specialists to deal with the electricity. Nobody in their clans knew how to do so, and they had already send word to civilians who were more skilled in the arts of technology than those of crafting jutsu. Hopefully, no one would pick up a fight, the peace between Senju and Uchiha was fragile as an egg-shell. But in the end, everything would work out. It had to. They had been fighting for this way too hard to give up now.

Madara’s breaths deepened. “That’s the spirit”, Hashirama praised. “Try lifting your head a little, your neck’ll get stiff. Should I get you a pillow? Madara?” The Uchiha didn’t answer, eyes closed. His lashes cast shadows on his cheeks in the dim light the nearly burned down candles were casting. His lips were slightly parted to breathe easier. 

Hashirama couldn’t do but swallow once he realised Madara had fallen asleep beneath his hands.

Sleep was the most vulnerable state any shinobi offered. There was a reason even children were taught to sleep light in case of upcoming attacks and no shinobi chose their resting spot carelessly. Was Madara just that tired? Sure, the day had been long and stressful, but that much? Did his sickness wear him out so much he had been unable to fight the grasp of sleep? Or…

Or... Hashirama swallowed once more, looking, no _gawking_ at the Uchiha’s peaceful features. Or did he just trust Hashirama enough to guard his sleep, to keep any threats off, to keep him save at his most vulnerable?

Shinobi never slept alone if they could help it, as it meant having one’s back unprotected at their weakest. Normally Izuna would be right in the next room and besides, there wasn’t anyone daring to attack Madara in his own house. Despite his sickness, he was nothing but the strongest Uchiha. Tobirama most probably would be awake until the sun rose, trying to organise as much as possible for the upcoming days.

Nibbling at his lower lip, Hashirama carefully let the medical chakra run out.

Madara mumbled in his sleep, mourning the loss of warmth and comfort.

 

“And then he said he didn’t even expect to survive the upcoming winter.” 

Fushito didn’t even know how to respond to that. His wife, Nanami, had asked their daughter to bring Madara-sama some herbs for the night, as he had requested those regularly before this mess of a village with the Senju had been created within a matter of days.

Nanami lowered her eyes. “I didn’t know… I knew he was ill, but I had no idea it was that bad. I thought he just…” The Uchiha didn’t have medical support the way the Senju did. There weren’t any medical shinobi in their clan. In fact, she was the only one who had at least some knowledge in the field of herbs and medical treatment, an expertise she had inherited from her now deceased grandmother. She wasn’t much of a fighter, and thus had decided to support her clan off the battlefields as best as possible.

Fushito exhaled deeply, taking a moment to choose his words. “It is good you told us what you heard at Madara-sama’s house. But I don’t want you to ever eavesdrop at him again, do you understand? He is our clan-head and deserves more respect than that.”

The seven-year-old nodded. Other than him or even Madara-sama himself, she had never seen a battlefield at her tender age. As soon as Madara had taken over the clan, he had pulled back all children under the age of twelve from the fights. The advantage the Senju had with their lowered number of fighters lasted not even a month, before Hashirama took control and over night, the Senju children disappeared from the battlefields as well. At that time, Fushito’s daughter had already been trained in the arts of war and he had taken sides with those who rebelled against their leader for casting away the old ways.

But then, his cousin has taken his six-year old to the battlefield despite Madara-sama’s orders. The child had been killed in a matter of minutes, standing no chance against adult Senju, who had no qualms to kill any Uchiha. Their clan-head had ordered a gathering after the battle and while everyone had expected for him to throw a fit, he had carried in the small body and pulled back the white sheets covering it. The child’s face had been twisted in fear, tear-strains still wetting the blood drained cheeks. “Is this what you seek?”, he had asked. “For your children to die without even a chance against their enemies in this war?”

That day, Fushito’s only daughter had turned four and normally would have entered the battlefield for the first time.

He had cuddled her close to his chest as soon as he got home.

“I'd rather choose between a rock and a hard place than trust a Senju”, he noted. “But…” He shook his head. “You should have been on the battlefield that day, Nanami. When Madara-sama fell, their leader protected him even from his own clan members. That giant-” He stopped, shuddering even though it had been Senju who had been smashed under its first in Hashirama’s rage. 

“Madara-sama never shows weakness”, Nanami agreed. “But… it’s not that he could afford to, could he? There are enough of us who still mourn the days Tajima lead the clan. They wouldn’t let any chance get past them to go back to the not-so-old ways.” She kissed her daughter’s hair as the child climbed in her lap.

Lips pressed together, Fushito stared out of the window to where their clan-head’s house was hidden in the dark of the night. “If that Senju truly is the only one able to heal him, this village _has_ to work out.”

“It will. It has to.”


	5. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Assholes everywhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Mucoviszidosis, apparently better known as Cystic fibrosis.  
> Screw me for not being a native speaker.
> 
>  
> 
> Also, Merry Christmas everyone!

“What the fuck are you doing in my house” weren’t the nicest words Hashirama had ever woken up to. But they weren’t the worst either, so he supposed it was alright.

“Izuna wasn’t here, so I wanted to stay the night in case-” “End that sentence, Hashirama, I dare you. End it and I’ll end _you!_ ” Hashirama’s head slammed down as a heavy raining cloud hit it from above. Not wanting to leave Madara alone for the night in case anything happened, he had drawn a small wooden bed from the wall opposite of the Uchiha’s futon. The leaves had been perfectly soft for sleeping and he hoped Izuna wouldn't mind he had burrowed his blanket. His lower lip started to pout and a muscle in Madara’s cheek twitched, as the bastard gave him the most pitiful puppy eyes this side of fire country. “No wonder I slept like hell!”

“I’m sorry for you”, Hashirama mumbled, sounding actually fucking devasted for him. “You can neither pee or sleep with someone around you… all these cuddles you’ll miss once you’re married.”

“The only thing I’m missing is privacy, something you still don’t get the concept of!”

Hashirama shook off his raining cloud, hopping from his make-shift bed. “Mind if I take a look at you?”

“Yes.”

And just like that, the cloud went slamming back into existence.

“But Madara-” “Fuck off. I’m going to make breakfast.”

“Make me something, too?”, Hashirama asked hopeful, ordering a few strands of hair that had decided to mind their own business while he slept.

“Aren’t you supposed to annoy the living hell out of your brother?”, the Uchiha asked, walking downstairs, still in his yukata. If Hashirama expected him to be decent after he’d spend the night in his bedroom on a whim, he was an even bigger idiot than Madara thought. He coughed twice, swallowing some fluids and finally made it to the kitchen. They didn’t yet have much of… well, basically anything, but there was some left-over rice from yesterday that he re-heated in boiling water, before cracking an egg above and adding some soy sauce. As he mixed his breakfast together, careful not to spoil anything as the bowl had gotten rather full, Hashirama entered the kitchen, too, and his stomach growled at the thought of food. “Mind if I take the rest?”, he asked hopeful, meaning the last bit of still hot rice Madara hadn’t made breakfast for himself of. The Uchiha sighed inwardly. If he said No, Hashirama would respect that, but he would also stare at him with the most devasted expression in shinobi history. He was such a child.

“Suit yourself”, he answered therefore, taking the first bite. Kami, he was hungry. Between the bites, he set up a pot of tea, waiting for the water to boil.

It didn’t take long for both men to practically inhale their breakfast, before Madara poured each of them a cup of tea, handing one to Hashirama, who beamed as if he’d just won… scratch that, he beamed just the way Hashirama always beamed when he was happy for whatever reason occurred to him at the time.

Carefully, Madara sipped from his cup. For some reason, hot liquids worsened the coughing, even though he did feel better afterwards. He set down his teacup roughly, before covering his mouth with a hand, as a heavy fit of coughing overcame him.

Not even a moment later, Hashirama was behind him, one glowing hand resting on his chest, the other one at his throat. “I would like to treat to every evening, if that’s alright with you”, the Senju murmured in his ear. “The night has done you well, your bronchial tubes aren’t on the verge of collapsing anymore.” His warm breath nearly made Madara shiver.

After the Uchiha had calmed again, Hashirama went back to his own tea, gently blowing to cool it. “After running water and electricity are dealt with, we should start thinking about who will lead the village.”

“It will be you.” Madara’s voice didn’t carry a hint of doubt, as if he was merely stating a long since decided fact. Hashirama frowned. “I wanted you to become the village’s leader”, he argued, making his friend chuckle. His frown deepened. What was to laugh about that? “You do realise this village only exists because you simply decided the war was over when I fainted on the battlefield right in front of you?”, the Uchiha asked. “You are the driving power behind this whole idea. Besides-” He lifted a hand to silence his friend before he could disagree, “I am ill, Hashirama. Yes, you are doing your best to heal me, and it might save my life in the end. Or maybe it’ll only drag out the inevitable. No one wishes for a leader who simply passed out on the battlefield and could, by all means, do so again.” He went back to his tea.

“You will not!” Eyes hardening, Hashirama leaned across the table. “Don’t you dare to-“ He stopped mid-sentence, lifting his hands to take Madara’s face in between them, forcing the Uchiha to look at him. “This is our dream, Madara! Ours! And now, that we finally made it reality, I will have nothing take you from me. _Nothing!_ The devil may dare, I will fight him.”

Madara swallowed, pupils blown wide upon Hashirama’s unexpected outburst of temper. His face was close, way too close, he could even see the green sprinkles in the deep pools of his irises. “I…” What did that idiot think he was doing?! “I don’t…”

Out of the blue, Hashirama grinned. “Of course, you won’t! I won’t let you die, no matter what’s going on in that thick-headed skull of yours.” The Senju winked at him, giving him a thumps-up. “After all, I’m the world’s best medical shinobi.”

“Complacent bastard”, Madara coughed, making his friend grin even wider. “Now, get out of my house, some of us have work to do.” Within the blink of an eye, the Senju’s grin was replaced by a whiny expression. “But… Madara!”

The raven-haired man took Hashirama’s empty mug out of his hands, putting it in the sink along with his own, before making his way back upwards to get dressed. “See you later, Senju.”

 

Within the next five days, running water was installed in every of the village’s houses. Way faster than expected, electricity took only three more. To everyone’s surprise, a civilian merchant had asked to move in the village, and, upon Hashirama’s and his approval, had opened a small store that offered basic goods as well as some luxury. Even something called chocolate, but that was way too expensive for some little brown blocks in a box.

Today, they had started building what was supposed to be the academy for children, as none of them would be sent to battle until they were twelve at least.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

Standing next to each other, Senju and Uchiha leader looked over their village, watching their people walking about, doing their daily business, if still insecure about each other. Both clans had been mortal enemies of centuries, and now they were simply supposed to get along with each other? It was bound to be tense and awkward at best for everyone. But well, all things considered, it could be worse. 

“Our village”, Hashirama continued, smiling quietly, genuinely. “And this is just the beginning. It’ll become so much more.”

“Keeping your expectations at bay, I see”, Madara noted dryly, making his friend pout. “Just you wait! I heard rumours about the Yamanaka considering joining us.”

“The Yamanaka?” Surprised, Madara looked at his friend. The Yamanaka had always attempted to stay out of the conflict between Senju and Uchiha, mostly minding their own business whenever possible. But well… maybe exactly that was the reason they considered joining the village now. The Yamanaka weren’t known for their outstanding abilities in combat and had thus developed something way more… well let’s just say you couldn’t trust your own mind in battle with them. Madara remembered one particular occasion that had left him with nightmares for a week and a brain feeling like a shredded pillow in the aftermath. “That’s… something.”

“Mind your euphoria, wouldn’t want you to get overexcited.”

Madara’s mouth fell open. “Did you just… make a sarcastic comment?”

Hashirama threw him a full faced grin, teeth shining, eyes sparkling, his features a picture of joy. He was beautiful whenever he smiled, radiating love and peace in a way that was even more precious considering the power he had in battle. “Never! By the way, the Daimyo replied to my letter, concerning the future of our village… He says he’ll need details about the future leadership, since it no longer will be the leader of each clan to make decisions but the one leading the village. And no”, he lifted a finger before Madara could cut in, “I still want that to be you!”

The Uchiha curled his lips. “It was way easier to obtain power with the two strongest shinobi-clans at war. Now, he’ll fear us overthrowing him.”

Hashirama frowned. “You know as well as I do how little titles are valued amongst our clans.” 

“ _I_ know that”, Madara emphasised. “ _He_ doesn’t.”

The Senju frowned. “He asked to meet me personally about it. We’ll see if we can convince him. Otherwise, we’ll have to do without his support. But if he cuts us off, it’ll be difficult to get the village off the ground. We’ll have to do our best.”

_“We?”_

“Well, yes! We’re the founders of this village, after all. Of course, we’ll go. I can even take better care of you on the road, when nobody’s watching!”

That sent Madara into a coughing fit having nothing to do with the poor condition of his lungs, making Hashirama fuss all around him like the sad puppy he was.

 

“You shouldn’t go!”

Madara frowned. The two of them were sitting in their kitchen, having lunch together, before the once-a-month clan meeting was due in the afternoon. It had been Izuna’s turn to cook and he had made his brother’s favourite -Inarizushi- as well as the sweet tea he had come to like so much. “I can’t let Hashirama go alone. That moron will probably promise the village’s eternal service or some bullshit. You can’t negotiate with him, he’ll just give in. Someone _has_ to make sure he doesn’t fuck up.”

“What about that brother of his?” Izuna took a piece of food with his chopsticks without bringing it to his mouth. “That bastard certainly won’t let him get out of line.”

“And have two Senju represent the village?”, Madara asked, making Izuna’s lips press together. “I don’t like this”, the younger Uchiha stated. “It might be a trap.”

“Of course, it might be.” Madara shrugged. “But it’ll have to be one hell of one to make either of us starting to sweat. Besides…” He took another piece on inarizushi, nearly humming with how good it was. Izuna had outdone himself, even though he hated cooking. “There’s still a few days left. We need to move everything out of the old settlement before leaving. And I’ll need an aviary for the birds.”

The younger Uchiha nodded. “They miss you”, he agreed. “The last time, Akira wouldn’t even take any of the meat I offered. Instead, I just got the Eyes of Doom.” Madara chuckled. Yes, Akira was indeed the most loyal of his birds, the by far fastest -if not strongest- but her loyalty came with the price of her basically hating everyone else. Not even Izuna was safe if she was in a bad mood. “If the clan meeting goes smooth enough, I might have enough time to take them home afterwards.”

“Makoto scheduled the meeting two hours earlier”, Izuna reminded. “Because she… Kami, I still can’t believe it.”

Madara chuckled. “Trust the elders to be the only ones getting along in this mess of a village.”

His little brother made a face. “I still can’t believe she re-scheduled the entire clan meeting because she wants to play Shogi with… what was her name? Hibiko?” Between his bites, Madara hummed in agreement, enjoying the last pieces of his favourite food, before putting his plate in the sink to wash later. They’d need to get going if they wanted to make it on time, as the gathering hall wasn’t near the centre of their compound, but rather at its back since they had needed it to be rather large to fit its purpose.

Side by side, the two brothers made way to the gathering hall. Once a month they held a meeting; the clan-leader, the elders, the strongest warriors and whoever had any concerns to bring forth. There were always some, reaching from “My husband has an affair and I want revenge” to… well, basically everything. There was nothing Madara couldn’t remember having discussed at some point or the other. While there were always people at the gatherings -at times more than others, yes, but always some- he frowned when he got closer now. There were Uchiha gathered even in front of the building, it felt as though half the clan had come together.

“I just hope they don’t intend on complaining about headaches from having to see Senju faces everyday”, Izuna noted dryly, making his brother supress a snort. If that was the case he’d have to hire another merchant to open a shop in their compound and he wasn’t looking forward to that. Besides, the silence worried him. It was way too quiet for so many people coming together. He made his way into the hall, taking his seat in front of the elders, Izuna as his right hand and co-leader next to him. 

“The meeting is started”, he declared, and it didn’t even take three seconds for Hotaka to step forward. Madara supressed the urge to press his lips together. Hotaka had always gone against him whenever possible, being supported by those who strode after Tajima’s traditional ways instead of the new route he had decided to seek out for the clan. Behind him, he had gathered around a dozen Uchiha, each of them sharing his stale values of times that were better off forgotten. This was bound to be a long and unpleasant day.

“I do not think you are suitable to be clan-leader any longer, Madara”, he stated without premise, making the few other Uchiha who had gathered to discuss less… dire… subjects murmur.

“As I still am, it is Madara-sama for you”, the Uchiha leader noted, leaning back in his seat, his features both, unchanging and unimpressed. “And why is it, that you think I am no longer up to lead the clan?”

“Do not play coy!”, the middle-aged Uchiha barked. His hair was short and perfectly neat, the exact opposite of Madara’s unruly mane even he didn’t manage to tame most times. If he thought about it, Hotaka represented everything in this clan he had come to change. “You have forced us into this rotten village with the Senju and their bastard of a leader, to have him save your life from whatever illness has befallen you! You demand the clan to subdue to their biddings, to save yourself! Tajima-sama would have never-” “Tajima is dead”, Madara cut in. “And we agreed to leave the dead behind, when we moved on, in order to save the living.”

“ _We_ did not agree on anything!”

“Are you doubting us, Hotaka?”, Sarana asked. “The three of us agreed on this attempt of peace, alongside with both, Madara-sama and Izuna-sama. Just as Senju Hashirama did with his clan’s eldest. And if eldest and clan-head decide, the clan will follow, as they have only the clan’s best interest in mind.”

For a moment, the hall was silent. Yes, normally such great decisions would be discussed further with the clan members. But there was a reason for an unwritten rule within the Uchiha: Whenever elders and clan-head actually agreed on something (and they rarely ever did, was it the kind of tea to be served or battle strategies), that decision was what was best for the entire clan. To challenge this basically meant to challenge clan tradition and law, something rarely ever happened, as the Uchiha valued family and clan above all else. However… “I do not believe Madara…sama is fit to lead the clan any longer, as he is both, physically and mentally dependant on Senju Hashirama. The Uchiha will not suffer for his weakness. I have gathered fifteen clan-warriors who share my doubts.” As the named Uchiha stepped forward -all middle-aged, none of them of the younger generation that rose with Madara or him- Izuna’s eyes widened. He wouldn’t- “I hereby challenge you about the clan-leadership!”

Another moment passed, then Madara stood up from his seat. “I accept.”

Itsuko frowned. This had not happened in generations -and for reason. Such a challenge could be met with denial (meaning the current clan-head was willing to step back) or as had just happened, acceptance. If none was willing to back down, the only way to solve this conflict was by following the oldest law of the clan: Leader was to be the strongest. And the only way to find out who truly was, was in a fight. Even considering such went deeply against all values of family that bound the Uchiha closer together than any other clan. Yet it seemed now, such values had been forsaken.

 

There was only a single training field that had already been carved out next to the village for sparring. It would have to do. If further space was needed, the fighters would simply have to burn down some more trees.

Silently, the group of Madara, Izuna, Hotaka (as well as his followers) and the elders made way to the field, an ever-growing bunch of concerned Uchiha behind them. As they had to make way through the main-gates, some Senju were bound to notice the strange convoy. Most of them decided to mind their own business -Uchiha were strange, after all- but a few silently stepped closer and as they weren’t asked to stay back (a challenge of leadership was to be a public affair, so nobody would be able to distort the results), a handful of Senju decided to satisfy their curiosity.

“Hotaka-san”, Itsuko stated, when they had finally made it to the open field, “You wished to challenge Madara-sama about the clan-leadership, as you think him no longer suitable. Have you changed your mind?”

“No.”

Pity.

“Madara-sama, you accepted the challenge upon your leadership. Have you changed your mind?”

“No.”

Both Uchiha faced each other, twenty meters of open space between them. Whoever won, would lead the clan. Such was law. Even though it hadn’t been needed in generations.

“It is to be decided, then.”

Not waiting for Itsuko -or anyone, really- to drag this out farther, Hotaka formed hand-signs, sending a crushing wall of fire right onto Madara, before forcing giant flaming fists into the burning mess. Madara hadn’t yet moved out of harm’s way, nor put up any counter. Whatever he was up to, Hotaka wouldn’t let him continue. Even ill, Madara was too dangerous to be left with any room to take action in battle. He would have to force him to- out of red burning flames, something blue glowed, and Hotaka created another flaming wall crashing at Madara.

It was useless against the giant ribcage the Uchiha-leader had formed around himself, the bones extending further, forming a set of four arms with six fingers each hand, its face a snarling skull full of teeth. Madara’s mass of hair was send flying in the waves of his chakra. 

As the Uchiha-leader stepped forward, flesh began to form itself around the giant skeleton, the Susano’o growling upon its formation. With a wave of its hand, it simply shrugged off the fireball cast onto it, its master on the ground not even touched by the heat.

Within the blink of an eye, Madara moved his Susano’o forwards, every attempt to stop him rendered useless at the nearly indestructible shell of his chakra. Roaring at his opponent, the Susano’o raised his left hand, before crushing the older Uchiha in a single swipe, leaving his bloody -but still living- figure motionless on the ground.

“The ways of the past have brought nothing but death and mourning. This village is our future and I will defend it at all costs.”


	6. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two idiots overeacting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanted to post this before tomorrow, as I'll be visiting friends for a few days.  
> It's nearly 1am, I apologise for any occuring mistakes.
> 
> Also Happy Upcoming New Year to everyone.

“Madara!” 

Of fucking course. Hashirama couldn’t even give him five seconds to clean this mess, get back to the gathering hall or… anything. Instead, he just slammed down next to the Uchiha in a cloud of dust, probably after running straight off from whatever he had been doing at the moment.

“I felt your chakra all the way across the village! Are you hurt? Here, let me take a look at-”

“Fuck off!” Did that stupid Senju even notice people were watching them? Hashirama had never gotten the concept of personal space as even most Uchiha had been bound to notice by now, but after Hotaka’s accusation of him being ‘physically and mentally dependant’ on him, he would rather make a point of- A heavy fit of coughing overran him, making his body convulse in pain for nearly half a minute, his lungs and throat feeling as though they had been ripped out from the inside. When he lowered the palm he had covered his mouth with, it was sprinkled with blood. “Damnit to hell”, he rasped, coughing once more and spitting a mouthful of blood to the ground. 

He noticed some of his clans-men had drawn their weapons before he realised their reason, when he finally straightened again, to gain posture. 

His back had been drawn to a warm, broad chest, as Hashirama had wrapped his arms around him, covering his throat and chest in the healing green glow of his hands. The Senju leader didn’t even seem to care about- “Don’t you try to run off now”, Hashirama warned, his… his _embrace_ tightening and finally, his burning lungs pained a little less, his throat soothed and he forced his eyes to open again, as they attempted to flutter shut from relief. “You were getting better the last days, but now your alveoli are severely strained, some have burst in stress. That’s where the bleeding hails from.” He could feel the Senju frowning behind him. “Actually, your whole body is stressed out, even though your lungs are worst. What have you done?! Didn’t we agree to stay out of sparring until you were at least-” “Shut it, you moron”, Madara groaned, before once again forcing his eyes to stay opened, as the warmth from Hashirama’s palms seemed to seep into his very soul. “I had to set priorities.”

Silently, the Uchiha put away their weapons, simply watching their clan-head and the Senju leader in the middle of the training-field, as did the few Senju who had come to watch the battle that never really was one. A few feet away, Hashirama frowned. “Nothing is worth more than your life and health”, he declared, making a lot of Uchiha and some Senju eyebrows rise.

“This village is”, Madara stated, finally stepping away from Hashirama, missing the warm, healing chakra instantly. “And it would have been hard to obtain it with Hatoko being clan-head.”

“Oh.” Only now, Hashirama noticed the bloody Uchiha at the ground, finally clicking the pieces together, as his clan’s customs didn’t differ _that_ much from the Uchiha’s. “Do you want… me to heal him?” For the very first time since Madara knew him -and that was a _lot_ of time- Hashirama sounded hesitant, nearly unwilling to treat someone. However; before he was able to answer, Makoto rose to speak. “You shall not. He has chosen to challenge Madara-sama’s leadership out of his own will. Now, he has to face the consequences for daring to.”

Hashirama nodded without even arguing -another first- and faced his friend again. “Come on. Let’s take you to bed, I can take better care of you there.”

Without even waiting, he picked Madara up, disappearing right to his house, ignoring his poor victim’s wheeze and glowing red cheeks. 

Left behind, Izuna blinked in disbelief. “That Senju didn’t just say that, did he?”

“I’m afraid he did”, Makoto huffed. “And he doesn’t even get it. Kami, grand us patience, for we have blockheads for leaders.”

“How can he even be related to Tobirama-sama?”, a blonde Senju wondered about his leader, making an Uchiha snort. “He didn’t have any space left for brain with all these brawls, therefore his brother got Hashirama-sama's part, too.”

“That seems way too likely”, another Senju-kunoichi mumbled, shaking her head. She knew how much their leader wished this village to come to fruition. But it needed two parts for this to work out and one could never be certain about Uchiha Madara, as he was nothing if not an obscure man. Now, however…

“I really need that game of Shogi now”, Sarana grumbled. “Someone pick up Hotaka. I’m going to be late for my match at Hibiko’s.” 

 

“And then he summoned a demon, Hitomi says she’s never felt that much raw chakra before, smashed that other Uchiha right into the ground and said he’d protect the village with his life!”

The teen’s father, a middle-aged Senju with light brown hair beginning to silver out at the temples, hummed at his son, who apparently was way too excited for dinner, as his plate remained untouched. “It seems, that Madara-fella really wants the village to work out.”

“I wish I had been there! It’s just as Hashirama-sama said when we moved in: With the Uchiha at our side, no clan will dare to challenge us!” The boy hopped off his chair, without even touching his food. “I need to tell Katashi, I promised him! I’ll have dinner with them!” Without even waiting for an answer, the boy ran straight off, making his father sigh. “I have the feeling, that Uchiha-leader will be topic of conversation for a while.”

His wife smiled encouragingly, or at least as much as was possible with the large scar on her right cheek. “Still, it’s soothing to know the village doesn’t rest solely on Hashirama-sama’s shoulders.”

Her husband nodded, taking a sip of tea. “I had a lot of doubts about him”, he admitted freely. “I still do. But at least he seems to protect the village as much as Hashirama-sama does.”

Kaede stood, putting their son’s neglected plat into the fridge. “There they are”, she noted, making her husband get up in order to watch the two clan-leaders walk down the street side by side. Hashirama said something, gesticulating widely, a large smile on his face, making others bound to feel happy, too. He was talking rapidly, and even though both Senju watching knew he was light-hearted by nature, his very soul seemed to seep happiness right now.

At least, until the Uchiha-leader said something, a single eyebrow lifted, making Hashirama slam face-first into the ground, a cloud of misery raining down on him.

The Uchiha was half a head shorter than him (even though his mountain of hair nearly made up for that), his figure noticeably slimmer than Hashirama’s. Both of them knew it made him no less mighty on the battlefield, yet it seemed strange as the downed Senju got up again, now laughing, hugging the man he was supposed to be mortal enemies with just a few weeks ago, only to set him down and scurry about him, as Madara coughed heavily into his hand. They all knew the Uchiha leader was unwell, it was no secret (or if, a very poor attempt at one) that Hashirama tried his very best to heal the Uchiha of whatever sickness had come upon him.

In disbelief more than surprise both Senju watched, as their leader wrapped his fingers around the Uchiha’s pale throat, covering it with the glowing green chakra of healing he was famous for… and the raven let him. Not even showing an ounce of discomfort, he let Hashirama touch his weakest spot, nothing but white skin between their leader’s fingers and his carotid artery. 

A few moments later, the two of them walked on, as if nothing had ever happened. 

“It took a month for you to let me even attempt to touch your face and we’re both Senju”, the dark-haired man complained, making his wife chuckle. “You are nowhere as charming as Hashirama-sama. Besides, I doubt they have known each other for merely these few weeks.”

Her husband rose an eyebrow. “Are you referring to the rumours? I thought those were cast amongst Uchiha only.”

Kaede shook her head, watching the two leaders disappear behind a tree. “Do you know some say they were children when they met first and dreamed about building a village together? When they discovered they were of enemy-clans, they were forced apart but even as clan-heads, they never truly fought each other.”

“Rumours”, her husband declined. They weren’t worth listening to. However… “That golem Hashirama-sama summoned, when Fukito and Masaru attempted to slay Madara-san. He has never used it on the battlefield before.”

“And I have never seen any kind of glowing demon with the Uchiha either”, she stated, before shrugging. “Who knows. We will never find out; I somehow believe they’ll keep that secret. But at least we know Madara-san defends the village as much as Hashirama-sama.”

 

Smiling, Hashirama watched Senju and Uchiha working together to finish the main-building of the childrens’ academy. It wasn’t much yet, a few classrooms, a training field, a small auditorium. They would continue with a kitchen and a canteen, so the children could have lunch at noon without having to bring their own or run home. Hibiko and Akiyama had come to take a look as well, even though the old kunoichi had some trouble with arthritis nagging her over the last days.

“We’ll need to be careful considering the future teachers”, Tobirama stated. He was standing at his brother’s side, watching the last efforts to finish the entrance. “I don’t want to prefer younger shinobi of either clan, but the more experienced ones tend to rely on old routes too much.”

Hashirama nodded. Physical punishment was something he had come to experience himself more than once. From this school, it would be banned rigorously. No child would have to fear pain from not agreeing to their teachers’ ways. And above all, they needed people who believed in their still nameless village. Who believed in the unity of their clans, in the good it would bring forth, and not stir up old grudges or attempt to influence students the wrong way. 

“Do you have someone in mind already?”, he asked, making his younger brother frown. “I am not close enough to any Uchiha to be able to judge”, he stated. “From our clan, I was thinking of Daruzo, Fushito, or Nashimi.”

“With Fushito, we’d have at least one experienced shinobi amongst them”, Hashirama noted. Fresh blood was always doing good, but one needed a centre for it. A group of nothing but youngsters was screaming for chaos. “I’ll ask Madara about qualified Uchiha. And when the teams are formed, we’ll need leaders for them.”

“We shouldn’t pounder too much about that, as long as we don’t even have set the basics”, Tobirama cautioned, arms crossed. “I’d rather-” “Hashirama!” The younger Senju turned around, as Izuna appeared next to them, probably from above the rooves. “Madara is ill. His fever has risen since yesterday evening, and he can’t breathe properly. I think-”

With a gush of air, Hashirama was gone, leaving the rest of them behind.

Izuna blinked. “Well… That was fast.”

“You can’t just tell him Madara has fallen ill and not expect him to overact”, Tobirama stated, not knowing how he felt about it. In the end, he went for unnerved. 

Hibiko huffed. “Didn’t even see us off. Such a churn.”

“Do you think they’ll get down to it before we’re out cold, watching the grass grow from below?”, Akiyama asked, fishing a small bottle of sake out of nowhere.

Tobirama frowned at the eldest. Firstly, he should oppose drinking at his age. Second… “Get down to what?”

Hibiko grabbed her fellow elder’s bottle, taking a much needed gulp. “They’re all blind around us, morons everywhere. Expect for these old Uchiha bastards. At least someone who gets what is shoved right in our faces.”

“One day, they will.” Akiyama took back his liquor, “And then we’ll be dead and they’ll wish they were as well, so they don’t have to see any of it.”

If Hashirama heard any of it, he didn’t care. Instead, he bolted to the Uchiha leader’s house, not even bothering with knocking. If nothing else, he did at least have the decency to take off his shoes before making way upstairs to Madara’s bedroom and entering right away. “Izuna, I told you, I’ll be better tomorrow”, the Uchiha rasped, having wrapped himself in three blankets, sweating and shivering simultaneously. Sluggishly, he lifted his head to tell his brother off and- “Don’t you dare to be difficult now”, Hashirama ordered, going on his knees and carefully stroking away a few strands of hair sticking to Madara’s forehead. Carefully, he worked a hand under the cocoon of blankets and rested it on the Uchiha’s chest, before starting to radiate healing chakra.

“Pneumonia”, he stated. “We were almost done with the infection a few days ago. You have to have gotten worse overnight. What happened?” Carefully, he got closer to the cocoon of blankets that was supposed to be his best friend and lowered his other hand on a sweaty forehead to take lower the fever. He had been positive they had dogged that bullet, even though Madara’s lungs had suffered severely with his fight yesterday afternoon.

“The Susano’o happened”, the raven rasped, coughing and wincing at the immediate pain it caused. “Its summoning stresses the body and drains massive amounts of chakra for the sake of nearly indestructible armour and unstoppable battle-power.”

“Then why did you summon it? You could have defeated that man without! You kept up with me even in your worst state, there is nobody who even comes close!” The pneumonia, he had to control the inflammation eating its way through the organ before it spread even further! Madara was too weak to withstand a full-out illness without suffering even more lasting damage. He couldn’t get rid of the mucus that had bacteria swimming in it to the brim. Maybe if he managed to isolate the infected tissue…

“Sometimes, you have to prove your point”, Madara interrupted his thoughts, answering his question. Carefully, Hashirama helped him by lifting his back as another fit of coughing overcame him. Bad, much worse than yesterday. There was no arguing with Madara; his friend was way too proud to admit he might have overreacted. Damage control was in order. Carefully, he let his chakra seep into every corner of Madara’s weakened lungs. Slowly, his healing energy closed around the infected area, cutting it off from the surrounding tissue. “Madara”, he murmured. “You’re in no state to allow a full-out pneumonia. So far, the infection has festered only in the lower left part, but your body is too weak to fight it from spreading all over your lungs. With the amount mucus still inside, that’s only a matter of time. I have isolated the infested parts, and I could try treating those alone. I will probably be able to kill of the infesting bacteria, but I’ll have to burn out all of them at once. That won’t treat the cause of it, and it will be anything but pleasant, I fear.”

Madara frowned. “Why didn’t you do so before?”, he asked, making the Senju groan. “Because it’s useless since it does nothing to treat the main-reason for your state! It’ll just strain your lungs even further. I wanted to get rid of the mucus, because that’s the root of everything! But we can’t let your pneumonia fester even further.”

The Uchiha sighed wearily, the wet sound escaping neither of them. “Do it, then”, he ordered, making Hashirama frown. He didn’t even ask for details, considering what he was about to do was anything but painless and certainly a risk, even though one they had to take. “I trust you.” The Senju stilled. Such a simply statement, three short words… And yet, they meant everything in their world. Madara trusted him. With his lungs, his health, his life. There was no greater gift a shinobi was able to offer.

Hashirama’s palms lowered on the clam skin of the Uchiha’s chest. “I’ll start now.”

Madara forced his body to relax, but as the pain set in, his attempts were in vain. The left half of his lungs felt as if it was stabbed with a burning iron over and over again. He grit his teeth as the pain got worse, hotter, as if part of his lungs was burned straight out of his chest. “Hurry up, Senju”, he grit out, long fingers clawing at his blankets. Hashirama didn’t dare to look up, too focussed on his task. “I need to wipe out the bacteria. If I don’t do so rigorously, it’s in vain.”

The Uchiha’s breathing haltered for a moment, as his lungs seemed to cramp, nearly making Hashirama stop. “Breathe, Madara, breathe. It’s going to be fine, you’ll do fine, I promise. I am nearly done with the first layer, I will need some more time.”

Dragging in a shuddering breath through grit teeth, he forced his lungs to fill, making blinding pain wash over his body. He counted to five, before releasing his breath. He was no stranger to pain, no shinobi was, but this was neigh unbearable. He felt the edges of his vision darken when his chest felt as if it was ripped apart from the inside, causing his giving out body to fall back at the futon. “Shit!” Hashirama’s voice made him focus again. “Stay with me, don’t black out, you can’t control your breathing if you’re unconscious! I’m sorry, Madara, so, so sorry! Stay with me, focus on me!”

“Don’t tell me what to do”, he gasped, nearly biting his tongue and cursing himself for speaking. His muscles cramped, he would surely bite it off.

“That’s the spirit”, Hashirama praised, forcing himself to work even faster. Madara wouldn’t be able to stay conscious any longer; the pain had to be unbearable. He had been forced to burn some tissue that had been beyond saving, it had been infected since he started treating Madara and would have only started festering anew. There would remain some scars but those were neat and carefully mended, impacting the breathing as little as possible. He was almost done, working on the last layer of infected flesh that had eaten itself deep into Madara’s lungs. His chakra burned through every cell, killed all bacteria in its way, leaving nothing but Madara’s own pulmonary tissue. Whatever the Susano’o he had summoned did to his body, the impact was grave as he still found microscopic bleedings even though he had treated his friend right after the incident yesterday.

“I’m done”, he finally breathed out, marking the last words Madara heard before he was surrounded by darkness.


	7. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madara+Head=Brains  
> Hashirama+Head=Slightly less Brains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... You already know English isn't my mothertongue and I'm deeply sorry for any occuring mistakes. I know it lessens the reading-fun...  
> If any of you is willing to Beta-read this story, I'd be glad. If there's none, I'll just go on and do my best not to fuck up royally :)  
> Also sorry for this rather short chapter.

Madara felt good, way better than most days when he woke up. But since he was used to feeling like shit, that didn’t mean too much. The sun warmed his face, its rays indicating it was shortly after noon. Hashirama was nowhere to be seen but he could feel the nearly infinity mass of his chakra in the kitchen downstairs, right next to Izuna’s and… He frowned. Tobirama’s? Did his house turn into a Senju dwelling of some sorts?

Carefully, he got up from his futon and straightened his yukata as half of his chest was exposed due to Hashirama’s treatment earlier, before making his way downstairs. He arrived just in time to hear Hashirama decline “- won’t do that. It’s not just my village, it’s always been me and- Madara!” The Senju leader was the first to notice him, sitting on the kitchen table with both, his own and Madara’s younger brother, a pot of tea and a scroll on the table between them. “How are you feeling?”

“Better.” The Uchiha’s eyes narrowed. “What’s going on here?”

“The Daimyo replied to your letter”, Izuna explained, nodding towards the scroll. “He wants to meet up with the clan-leaders as soon as possible to debate about the village leadership.”

Madara frowned. First, it took him weeks to reply, and then everyone was supposed to meet with him this instant? What was the man thinking? That he owned the whole place? Yeah, probably exactly that. “We can’t leave now”, Hashirama interrupted his thoughts. “You’re not well enough to travel that long, especially after this morning. If you’re not careful, the infection might return right away and I don’t want to have to beat another case of pneumonia”

“We cannot wait until Madara gets better, not if it could take weeks”, Tobirama cut in, crossing his arms. “If we deny his invitation, he might cut us off from future support and we can’t live without contracts and money.”

“We aren’t denying him, we’re simply delaying”, Hashirama noted, making his brother huff. “And you think he’ll see the difference?”

Madara helped himself to a cup of tea, before taking a seat between Izuna and Hashirama, carefully sipping the steaming drink. So, this was what they were on about. He wasn’t up to travel all the way across fire-country and back in his state and he was very aware of that. However, he didn’t know what all this fuss was about. Why didn’t they just- “What is the Daimyo supposed to think if he asks for the clan leaders -and, even more specific, about the village’s future leaders- and two Senju show up? The Uchiha take pride in this village because both of our clans are equal. There’s no equality in two Senju leaving to negotiate with the Daimyo about the village’s future while the Uchiha are left behind.”

Hashirama nodded. “You’re right, Izuna. That is why I want to wait. It doesn’t matter whether it’s a week or a month, Madara _will_ get better. And as soon as that’s the case, we’ll leave.”

“There might be no reason to leave anymore, if we wait that long”, Tobirama stated, making the younger Uchiha frown. “There’s no way you and Hashirama going alone won’t cause the Uchiha to get irritate”, he countered. “Don’t forget we forged this village _together_.”

Madara took another sip of his tea, before sighing. Was everyone in here blind for the tree in midst of the forest? He wouldn’t put it past Hashirama, but Izuna at least was supposed to be smarter than that. Tobirama, too, for that matter. The man had gotten his older brother’s missing brains, after all. “We can’t let Hashirama leave alone, he’ll fuck up”, the Uchiha leader stated, making the older Senju’s face slam onto the table. Unimpressed, Madara took another sip, before blowing gently on his tea to cool the surface. “We can’t let Hashirama and Izuna leave either, since someone needs to temper down that moron, in case he wants to sign up his soul for a piece of cake. If it’s an Uchiha who does so, it’ll do both, undercut Hashirama’s authority as the leader of the Senju clan and make the Uchiha appear in a bad light. We should prevent that.” Hashirama opened his mouth to protest -he wouldn’t be too giving! It was about their village after all!- but Madara went on, ignoring his friend without a hint of remorse. “That leaves us with only one possibility: As the leader of the Senju, Hashirama will meet with the Daimyo. Tobirama, you’ll accompany him, so he doesn’t fuck up royally. Izuna, you’ll represent the Uchiha at his meeting. Unlike someone else in here, you don’t need a babysitter, so you’ll speak for all of us.”

For a while, the three of them were silent, considering Madara’s suggestion, whereas the Uchiha simply drank up his tea. This solution was both, the easiest and best one to approach their problem and he was very aware of that. “Aniki…” He looked up to his younger brother. “I’m not clan-head. It would be uncalled for, if I went.”

Madara chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “What do you think would happen, if my health was good enough and Hashirama and I went? It’d be my job to talk him out of all that bullshit he’ll come up with. Tobirama can do so without causing further problems. And besides”, he shrugged, “It’s not like I led the clan on my own. You did just as much. And don’t forget, without you, the village wouldn’t even exist. It’s only just if you’re the one to go.”

Hashirama frowned. “I don’t like the idea of leaving you behind”, he confessed.

“And I don’t like the idea of you even opening your mouth during those negations, but we can’t have it all, can we”, Madara shot back mercilessly, making the older Senju slump in his chair, murmuring about everyone around him being mean. “I survived more than twenty years without you, I’ll get by.”

“I’m still worried”, Hashirama mumbled, watching his best friend with a pout. 

“In that case you’d better worry about your tongue because I’ll rip it right off if you don’t shut the fuck up”, Madara growled, turning to Tobirama. “Make sure that idiot doesn’t sneak back halfway across fire-country.”

 

It was strange somehow, walking through the village without Hashirama at his side. The stupid Senju had insisted on waiting to the next morning before leaving, making sure to wait one night in case Madara’s condition got worse again.

Unable to tell him off (no, not because he was reluctant to do so, but because Hashirama right out _refused_ to leave), Madara had kicked out the Senju as soon as he woke up in the morning. Not even an hour later, the two Senju leaders and Izuna had departed.

“Madara-sama!” 

He looked down on a small Senju-boy, who flinched as his eyes met the Uchiha leader’s piercing gaze but didn’t back down. Well, not that much at least. “What is it, boy?”, he asked. Did something happen? But it would be more likely for the kid to ask an adult Senju for help in that case. However, the child finally made up his mind, eyes squeezed shut, and blurted: “Ihopeyouarefeelingbetter.”

Madara blinked, unable to detangle the rush of words, before frowning. The kid -he might be seven, maybe eight- took a deep breath, before trying again. “Are you feeling better? I hope you’re feeling better. Mom says you’ll protect the village, so we don’t have to fight anymore. Yesterday Kumiko, Hatishi, Hiki and I played hide and seek. I had to fight Hatishi once, you know, because he’s an Uchiha… I don’t want to fight with him again, he says we’re friends now. Mom says if you hadn’t protected the village, we would’ve had to fight again, because-” He stopped, finally catching up to his rush of words, cheeks starting to redden in embarrassment, as the ground suddenly seemed way more interesting than it had any right to be.

Carefully, Madara crouched down, to be on eye-level with the boy. “I’m feeling better”, he confirmed. “This village is the future of our clans and both, Hashirama and I will protect it.”

Suddenly, the boy grinned at him, blue eyes sparkling. “Awesome!” 

And with that, the child ran off, disappearing somewhere between the houses, leaving the Uchiha behind. He shook his head. Children… but it wasn’t as though he had much time to think about it anyway. The Senju elders had asked to meet him, because this morning -just a few hours after Hashirama, Tobirama and Izuna had left- a small pigeon had landed in front of Hashirama’s door. The little bird had carried a single small scroll on its leg, addressed at the leaders of the Uchiha and Senju clan. Since Hashirama was gone, the two Senju elders would stand in his place.

Madara walked past some gardens (the Senju had spread like a plaque, each garden at least thrice as big as the actual house), before getting to the last one. Senju in general required a lot of space and their leader was even worse. Whereas common people grew herbs in their gardens or maybe had some chickens, Hashirama grew a fucking forest. A bunch of cherry-trees, their bright leaves glowing in the sun, alongside those which would certainly carry peaches and pears next autumn. Instead of a beet for herbs, the fucking place was basically covered in flowers. Roses, tulips, daisies, marigold… You name it, it was there, happily blooming despite the fact it was way too early in the year for such flowers. Nevertheless, they bloomed in a sea of colours, giving zero fucks about the cold and lack of sun. He could even hear some birds chirp, easily making out a wren in between them. Those were always early. In the middle of the garden, a spacious lake glittered in the sun, a few Koi fish happily soaking up the warmth instead of hiding in the shadow of the single red acorn growing next to the water. The whole place radiated the essence of Hashirama himself: Life. Not a single gloomy place, a single dead patch of grass, a single leaf fallen from any tree. Hashirama’s joy for living had seemed to seep into every plant.

Didn’t change the fact that Hashirama probably took up more space than the Daimyo he was currently visiting.

Madara huffed quietly. Hashirama had always been joyous, despite the circumstances forced upon him. He had made a choice very early in life, choosing gentleness and life instead of the destruction he could easily havoc amongst it. It wasn’t that he was too weak or too cowardly to use his powers to protect what he held dear. He simply cherished life in any form, even it happened to be an Uchiha he was supposed to be enemies with. Madara sighed. Most likely, Hashirama’s wilfully made decision for creation instead of an inability of destruction was what he had come to lo- “Are you going to gawk at his garden all day? The tea’s getting cold!”

Madara blinked, slowing turning to Hibiko who was glaring at him from the porch. “I’m coming”, he muttered, slowly turning around to enter Hashirama’s house, leaving his shoes at the entrance. On the carefully cut bonsai in the living room (because of course Hashirama had a perfectly trimmed bonsai tree in his living room) a small dove was sitting, feathers patched grey with white sprinkles. It was probably waiting for them to write an answer to whoever’s letter it had delivered.

He took a seat and Akiyama handed him the small scroll, still neatly tied with a white ribbon. On its back, his and Hashirama’s name had carefully been written.

He loosened the fabric, gently opening the small scroll, before squinting. His sight was still quite acceptable, however; tiny letters such as these were hard to read and blurred together the longer he stared at them. Thankfully, the letter was rather short and after reading it, he passed it back to Akiyama, who carefully put it down after reading alongside with Hibiko.

The Uchiha leaned back in his seat. “I assume one of you controls the bird.”

The pigeon fluttered from its place to take a seat on the table, cooing once. Madara nodded. The Yamanaka were way ahead of any other clan in matters of mind and the controlling of such, be it an opponent’s in battle or a simple carrier pigeon. Anyway, it would make things easier.

“The Yamanaka are the first ones to ask for an alliance, therefore we have neither any kind of experience or formalities prepared. As you should be aware of by now, Hashirama is currently conducting negations with the Daimyo. I have decided to stay behind to protect the village in case of emergency.” That was not at all the reason he had stayed in the village, but he had to feed the Yamanaka something that didn’t include him admitting his health was a fucking mess and he didn’t put it past his body to give out during the journey. Also, better not give them ideas about the village being unprotected during Hashirama’s trip. “I will not make such grave decisions as the Yamanaka joining the village with Hashirama being absent, since I know he wouldn’t do the other way around as well. However; while he is gone, his clan’s elders will speak for him.”

The pigeon turned around as to face the two elders. Hibiko huffed. “You know, back in our glory time, instead of this, we would have had the guts to come over ourselves.”

Akiyama sighed. “Don’t start again. Remember what happened when Guseko decided to- Oh, never mind, neither of you young people need to hear that. Anyway… Neither of us can speak for Hashirama-sama, however; I doubt he would be opposed to further negations considering the Yamanaka joining our village.”

“Just come back next week”, Hibiko grumbled. “And make sure to do so in person. Talking to birds makes me feel like a stupid old hag.”

Madara refused to give in to the impulse to pinch the bridge of his nose. Elders were a lot to deal with, no matter their clan. Most likely because they could give a fuck about basically anything since they would be dead sooner rather than later. “Next week sounds acceptable”, he agreed in an attempt to prevent further bickering.

Deeming the meeting over, Madara opened a window and the pigeon flew off, back to the Yamanaka where it would hopefully get food and some pets.

Shutting the window behind the bird, he took a sat again. “Shall we prepare negations with the Yamanaka then?”, he asked, as everyone knew Hashirama was terrible at those. The elders would surely be less giving and they would keep in mind both, their clan’s and the village’s best interest.

Hibiko drank up her tea. “You’ll do great”, she told him and without another word, the two elders walked straight out of the door, leaving him alone. Madara blinked. Did he just got ditched? 

The front door fell shut.

He just got ditched.

Groaning, he got up to search for some paper and ink in an attempt to write down the essentials of their basis for negation. He would have to hammer those in Hashirama’s wooden brain before next week.

Two hours later and stuck in more details than he’d thought possible, he had eaten all of Hashirama’s remaining eggs and cheese in form of an omelette and was about to finish his cherry juice. 

He was just scratching out his former thoughts -whether the Yamanaka would stay allied to the Senju or the Uchiha in case the village ever split up had turned out to be irrelevant at this point- when the ground shook as if something unbelievable heavy had just slammed on it. Right after the first impact, another followed and a scream emerging from the valley north of the village tore across the peaceful day, loud enough to be heard for miles. A third impact and his glass of cherry juice fell over, the red liquid soaking the paper.

Madara got up.

“Fucking shit.”


	8. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically a fanfic to a fanfic written to a fanfic. Suck on that, Inception.

Dashing out of the front door, Madara was greeted by a bunch of Senju. “Madara-sama!”

He gave a short nod in acknowledgement. “Toka”, he answered. “Any information?”

Hashirama’s cousin shook her head. “None.”

Another scream shook the village and Madara cast out his senses, cursing right after. “Whatever it is, it’s big. Nearly as much chakra as Hashirama and approaching fast, from the north.” By now, the sensors of his own clan had sought him out, waiting for orders. “Fushito, Nanashi, Akanaru, Hitabi! You follow me. Tashimi, everyone else is to form defence lines! Naboru takes over command as long as I’m gone. Toka, pick some shinobi to accompany us, the rest will fight alongside the remaining Uchiha to defend the village.”

Toka nodded once, ordering two Senju to follow them, whereas the rest of them were to defend the village alongside the Uchiha. 

“Let’s go”, Madara bellowed, jumping off like a crossbow being fired. Three Senju and four Uchiha followed right after, heading towards the valley north of their village. 

 

Somewhere all the way across Fire-Country, Hashirama flinched. He missed a step, nearly stumbling down from the tree he had just been jumping on, coming to a rather inelegant hold.

“Anija!” Tobirama stopped on a branch of the next tree, facing his older brother. “What are you doing?”

Hashirama blinked, turning around and looking in the direction of the village they had left nearly half a day ago. “I don’t know… Just…” “Just?”, Tobirama parroted, eyes narrowing. “Just a feeling”, Hashirama muttered, turning fully around. “Maybe we should…”

Tobirama frowned. While he was a rather down-to-earth man (even though some claimed that to be an understatement), Hashirama did always have a particular way of being able to trust his guts. More often than not, it had proven to be right. It was unwise to ignore his brother’s instinct.

“Aniki is still at the village”, Izuna pointed out. “There’s nothing ever been able to defeat him. Well, except you that one time but that was due to his illness. But I’m pretty sure if we return now due to anything short of the upcoming apocalypse, he’ll skin you alive.”

For a moment, Hashirama wondered if he would be able to regrow the skin on his naked flesh, before shuddering. Not all presumptions needed to be tested. “Let’s hurry up”, he finally muttered. “The sooner we arrive, the sooner we will be back in the village.”

 

Madara grit his teeth.

Bad.

Kami, this was bad.

Another scream cut into his eardrums and the ground shook, as the giant beast took a step forward.

Behind him, he could hear one of his shinobi swallow, but none of them retreated upon the raging beast tearing its way across the valley in front of them. Four out of its nine tails clobbered down, crumbling stone and naked earth, its front paws tearing apart whatever remained. Considering the path of destruction behind it, the nine-tailed beast was heading right at their village.

“Kyuubi!” Madara’s voice echoed from the cliff they were standing on. “Cease your path! We have no quarrel with you and do not wish for a fight!”

The giant fox turned towards him, eyes blood red, and another scream shook the very ground he stood on, making the rock beneath his feet shiver. Its gaze seemed to be fastened onto him, yet at the same time went right through. Then, the Bijuu opened its jaws and Madara’s eyes widened as he felt the amount of raw chakra it was forming. He dashed forward, leaping off the edge in a powerful jolt and within the blink of an eye, summoned his Susano’o around him.

Pain erupted in his body, feeling as though he was being burned alive, the flames seeming to eat away his flesh, as the incredible mass of his chakra crashed right onto the raging fox, crushing it to the ground. The still forming chakra bomb in its maw exploded, splintering the ground. Madara let his Susano’o jump back, the force crushing the Kyuubi farther into the ground. However, after no more than a second, it rose to its hind legs, screaming at Madara, before leaping on his opponent with a speed uncalled for something this large, crushing the Susano’o right into the cliffs behind it.

The charka construct roared with rage as it freed itself from the now crumbling stone and the Nine Tails opened its maw again, gathering masses of chakra. Madara steered his Susano’o forward, aiming a kick at its jaws to prevent the attack that would surely follow. The Kyuubi however used his unsafe footing, kicking the sole leg the chakra constructed rested upon and forced it to crash down. Before he could get up again, Madara felt a giant maw closing onto his battle avatar’s arm, ripping it off. He used the remaining arm to punch straight at the Kyuubi’s sensitive nose, forcing it to let go and made his Susano’o jump to its feet. 

This wouldn’t do. Even in this form, his avatar would be unable to put up a fight for long. He would need protection for the chakra-flesh he had formed around him, as the Nine Tail’s teeth would just continue to rip it into pieces.

“Retreat to the valley’s edge”, he commanded, not facing the shinobi still standing on the cliff above them. Even though they were the clans’ mightiest warriors (after the leaders and their little brothers, that is), they would be crushed right away. “Try to eliminate any attacks leaving the valley! I don’t know if I can nullify all of them!” 

“Madara-sama! This is madness!” Toka. Of course, now that Hashirama wasn’t there to annoy the shit out of him, his cousin would take on the job. “Retreat! Not even… this… can’t withstand a Bijuu!”

“That is because I am not done yet!”, the Uchiha leader bellowed. The fox apparently had recovered from nearly having its nose crushed and aimed another piecing scream at him. His hands tightened into fists, as he forced his chakra to compact even further, his Susano’o nearly feasting on his chakra reserves, until he could feel there was nothing more to accomplish, as he had the ultimate weapon at his bidding.

Its Master residing in the single gem on his Susano’o’s forehead, the armour round him nigh indestructible, the giant battle avatar drew its sword and its armour rattled as the beast in front of it screamed once again.

“I will not let you wrack havoc on our village”, Madara stated. “Cease your path and leave, I will not let you pass.”

Instead of an answer, the giant fox leapt at him.

 

The hilt of his Susano’o’s sword rammed into the Kyuubi’s lower jaw from below, crashing it shut and eliminating another growing chakra bomb.

Inside the safety of his chakra Madara coughed, cursing at the blood he spat out. His sight was blurring, his lungs clenched. Madara could feel his body slowly starting give out. The pressure of summoning these giant masses of his chakra upon his (rather poor, as he was finally able to admit) physique was immense and he was very aware his weakened state didn’t make things easier.

However, the Kyuubi wasn’t that much better off. Its left hind leg was bleeding where a chakra-formed sword had cut clean into his hamstring muscle before it had been stopped by three tails. Two of its claws had been ripped out, making the right front paw bleed, as well as one of its ears.

Once again, the Nine Tails screamed at him and Madara frowned. It had nearly sounded like -he let his Susano’o outstep an attack- like a name… _“Drah!“_

He leaped forward, knocking the beast right into another cliff. Without hesitating, one of its tails shot upwards, grabbing the kunoichi closest to him -one of the Senju, even though not Toka- and proceeding to crush her into the valley scarred from their fight. The force behind it would be great enough to at least shatter bones, leaving her open to be killed within a moment.

The Susano’o leapt forward, catching the Senju mid-air. However; before he was able to turn around, the Kyuubi had jumped out of the valley in a single leap, barrelling right towards the village, not minding the amount of blood it was losing due to its injuries.

 _”Toka!”_ , he yelled, tossing the currently unconscious Senju to her, before forcing his Susano’o to let go of the sword-sheaths and instead transforming the additional pair of hands to the wings they actually were, flinging the chakra construct upwards, heading after the raging beast. 

However, his Susano’o was created for destruction -brutal, all-consuming nullification- rather than speed. He wouldn’t get to the Kyuubi before it made path to the village. One of the chakra-creature’s arms thrust out, sending one of its four swords flying towards the fleeing Nine Tails.

Screeching, the demon fox stopped as to avoid getting pierced by the giant weapon the same moment Madara let his Susano’o get down as close as possible. The village was a quarter mile away. He had to stop the fox from getting to it at all costs! Even though this close to the village, he had to take even more care wielding his blades to avoid collateral damage. He couldn’t risk using their destructive capabilities.

“You will not pass!” His voice hollered across the field. “I will die before I let you!”

His Susano’o growled loudly, nearly yelling at its opponent.

Spitting out a mouthful of blood, Madara grit his teeth against the pain eating on him and turned his Susano’o’s wings back into the additional pair of hands, regretting it a mere moment later, when two fox tails attempted to throw him off balance, forcing the large construct to leap above them to prevent crashing into the ground. The earth shook as it landed again, crushing the churned ground beneath its feet.

 

The Nine Tails opened its maw, creating another chakra bomb. The Susano’o’s sword pierced the forming attack, slicing it in half.

Madara had outright forgotten how many attempted attacks at the village he had prevented at this point. He had to be so very careful wielding his swords, as every attack was capable of destroying the village and people he had sworn to protect. He just couldn’t go all in and there was no way of pushing the beast back far enough for an open fight. Every time he tried, it would attempt outrunning him, making way to the village.

By now, he had difficulties distinguishing upcoming attacks. He was unable to make out their environment any longer, everything was just colours blurring together in the distance. The Kyuubi’s attacks only came into focus if it aimed them directly at him, right before they would find their target. However; they had become sloppy, slower, their aim off. The fox way barely able to stand on its hind legs any longer. Instead, it went to all fours, before leaping right at him, making his Susano’o stumble back from the force.

Madara punched the beast’s stomach, making it scream once more as it tumbled back. _“Ih-Drah!”_ Again… It nearly sounded like a name. Using the flat side of one of his remaining swords, Madara forced the already unsteady beast tumbling on its back, crashing onto the ground. The Susano’o jumped, its wings allowing it to gain more height… and the very moment the Kyuubi struggled to get back on its feet, Madara let his battle-avatar crash right onto its stomach, feet first. The very force compelled the fox into the ground, forming a crater beneath it.

Madara let the chakra-construct surrounding him leap back, preparing his swords to finally end this fight -he could barely make out the Kyuubi’s outlines any longer, mostly relying on his sensory qualities by now- when the fox started to gag, stomach heaving from the blunt force it suffered by being hit with the Susano’o’s full weight straight on. It lifted its head, heaving once more, before emptying its stomach. Gastric acid splashed on the ground, bits of flesh, and- he frowned. He couldn’t see them, but there were clearly two shinobi. Their chakra signatures were strange, similar to the Kyuubi’s but slightly off in a way he couldn’t put to terms. 

_”Indra!”_ , the Nine Tails screamed, apparently not being able to get up. “Brother! Kill them, brother! Kill them now!”

Already, he could feel the two shinobi make way back to the Kyuubi. Beyond logic, his guts told him letting them reach the demon fox would be fatal. He had to make sure they wouldn’t, had to be certain there would be nothing left of them, of whatever strange chakra they contained. 

Nothing.

Nothing at all.

Black flames surrounded the two strangers and he could feel them eat away their skin, flesh and bones, even the very chakra within them until not even ashes remained.

 

“Would you cut it down”, Tobirama bellowed, making his older brother slow down the slightest bit in order for his two comrades to close up.

“I have a bad feeling”, he muttered. “We’d better hurry back.”

“If this is _not_ hurrying to you, I don’t know what is”, Izuna stated. Both, him and Tobirama had trouble keeping up with the Senju leader’s pace even though apparently, he was able to go even faster.

Hashirama shook his head, the twisted feeling getting worse. “I shouldn’t have gone. It wasn’t worth the travel anyway…”

Trees blurring around them, Tobirama sighed next to his brother. Yes, the Daimyo would have indeed preferred to negotiate some kind of proper leader of their people. But some things simply hadn’t been due yet in their fledging village and thus, the three of them had to do. Nothing had been formally contracted yet, since for that they would need to name an official head of their village and even though it was more than likely Hashirama would take that place, he had right out refused to act as one without having been elected yet.

And Ah, elections… yet another sore topic, since the Daimyo would have preferred for them to simply name a leader instead of making their people choose one. However, in that matter, the three shinobi had shown to be unrelenting. The one who would be chosen by their people was to be village leader. And since none of them were at that point, there was only so much they could agree to.

Most important for them: They wouldn’t be cut off future contracts. The land they had their village built on might be located in Fire-Country, but ever since the war it had been considered shinobi territory (Hashirama had offered to buy the land; Tobirama had nearly whacked his head before telling the Daimyo that the forest had been no-man’s-land in generations and if he decided to change that, he would cause unrest not only amongst Senju and Uchiha but other shinobi clans as well).

Most important for the Daimyo: Neither Senju nor Uchiha held any interest in overthrowing the royal line, much less taking to ruling. They village however would remain independent.

There wasn’t so much more to talk about at that point (or rather: Not much more Tobirama would have his brother talk about), therefore they had stayed the night by courtesy and left by sunrise.

Hashirama hadn’t gotten an ounce of sleep all night.

“It could have gone better, but it certainly could have gone worse”, Izuna summed up their stay. “We even got dinner… and they had these hideous monkey-shaped napkin holders! I took one for Madara, he’ll _hate_ it.” 

Tobirama threw the Uchiha a quick glance. “You stole one of the Daimyo’s napkin holders?”

“I didn’t steal it, I just rented it”, Izuna informed him. “Forever, without payment.”

The younger Senju sighed. It seemed, even though Izuna was way more tactile than Madara or his own older brother, Uchiha in general came with a varying amount of madness. Probably a result of decades of inbreeding, he noted wryly.

By now, they had almost made it home, thanks to Hashirama’s sharp pace. They hadn’t even taken a break to pee (if any of them brought it forth, Hashirama would probably kindly ask them to hold back until they had arrived at the village) and Izuna’s stomach loudly demanded food. The three of them ignored it, as they would arrive in a few minutes. There was no reason to- “Kami!”

Finally closing up to Hashirama again, the two younger brothers were greeted by a picture of destruction. The valley north of their village had been utterly destroyed. Cliffs shattered, some of them crashed, trees ripped by their roots, earth churned up und scarred, rocks lager than houses thrown all the way into the forest. 

“What _happened_?”, Izuna demanded, aghast. He didn’t get an answer as the three of them bolted off to the village. Right outside of it, an even more vicious battle had seemed have taken place, as the ground as scarred with craters. There was nothing left standing, not even the burnt grass beneath their feet. There was no way anyone- “Madara. _Madara!_ ” Without even bothering to wait for them, Hashirama darted off into the village. Tobirama and Izuna shared a look. Of course. Kami knew what happened to their village and everyone within but to Hashirama nothing mattered more than the Uchiha leader.

Following right after, the two of them arrived just as Hashirama knocked viciously on the door to the shared house of the Uchiha clan-heads. “Madara! Madara, open up! Are you alright? What happened?” -Mind the order he asked, Tobirama noted dryly- “Who was-” Before he was able to finish, the door flew open, revealing the Uchiha leader in a sloppily tied yukata.

“It’s the middle of the fucking night”, he hissed, glaring at Hashirama. “Stop waking the whole village, they haven’t had the best day anyway.”

“What happened?” The Senju leader stared at him. “You look horrible.”

“Why, _thank_ you, Hashirama”, the raven drawled, before looking up to where Izuna and Tobirama were standing. “Get in”, he finally ordered, turning around and making way to the kitchen. His shoulder brushed the doorframe as he entered.

Taking off their shoes, the three of them decided to follow. When they got in, Madara was re-tying his yukata and Hashirama frowned. The kitchen was dark and when he turned on the light, Madara didn’t even blink from the sudden brightness, even though his eyes had always been sensitive. He took one of the three remaining seats on the kitchen table.

“I’ll make some tea”, Izuna sighed, the hot brew held always a certain amount of comfort. And somehow, he felt they needed it tonight. 

No one broke the ice until the tea was finished steeping and Izuna put four cups on the table, filling each. When Madara took his own, his fingers carefully glided across the table until they met the cup.

“The village was attacked”, Madara finally confirmed their concerns, making the three of them stiffen. “It was dealt with and that’s all I’m going to say about the matter. It’s fuck o’clock in the morning and I’m deadly tired. Drink your tea and get out. Or sleep in the kitchen, I don’t care.”

Hashirama swallowed his questions, his concern now solely focussing on Madara. The Uchiha never would admit such a bagatelle as him being ‘tired’. At least if not attempting to hide something that was of actual concern. 

Finally, the two Senju got up, making way to the main corridor leading to the door.

The floor was dark since Tobirama had switched off the light when he left it, as was his habit. Now, Izuna turned it on again. Without waiting for him to react, Hashirama took Madara’s face in his hands, turning him right into the bright light on his left.

The Uchiha’s pupils remained half-way opened in his dark irises, unchanged by the blinding of the light the Uchiha faced, his eyes unresponsive.

“You are blind”, Hashirama whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter involves everything I suck at writing: Political discussions and battle-scenes. Yes, I am a brilliant mind indeed and put all in one chapter to make sure it sucks even worse.
> 
> Before bashing me about Madara being weak in comparison to canon where he overpowered Kurama, please consider:  
> 1\. He is severely ill  
> 2\. He hasn't achieved the Eternal Mangekyou Sharingan 
> 
> Thank you for the load of comments to the latest chapter! I joyed my ass off (and yeah that's an actual metaphor where I'm from).


	9. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hashirama throws a heavy fit of PMS.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for all those kudos and comments! They really keep me going.
> 
> I proofread the first three chapters during the weekend. Holy shit, so many obvious spelling mistakes... I'm kinda embarrassed ^^'  
> If you notice major mistakes, please don't hesitate to tell me. I will correct them as soon as possible.  
> However, I admit I only fully proofread chapters once or twice before posting. I could do more, to steer clear of some more mistakes, but then I'd take longer for updates. Let me know what you'd prefer :)

“Hashirama.”

The kitchen wall crumbled.

“Hashirama!”

The sheer power of chakra forced the walls to collapse; parts of the roof crashed down next to them. Even the non-sensors amongst their clans had woken up by now, if not alarmed by the boiling well of chakra, the sound of the crashing house of the Uchiha clanleaders was quite enough. A bunch of shinobi -both, Senju and Uchiha- arrived next to them in alarm, still clad in their nightwear.

“Get a fucking grip!”, Madara bellowed, as the rest of their house crashed around them. The shinobi around them swallowed, uncertain about how to react, facing this seemingly infinite amount of overwhelming chakra. 

“Who?” Hashirama’s voice was dark and the amount of chakra radiating intensed even further, nearly crushing everyone around him -except for Madara around whom it seemed to wrap like a protective shield. The ground burst beneath Hashirama’s feet, making the shinobi around them stumble back. Twines wrapped around the Uchiha’s ankles. _“Who did this?”_

“Stop acting like a hellion!”, the Uchiha leader barked, crossing his arms. The surrounding shinobi watched him wary, uncertain how he remained unfazed in the face of such unbearable amounts of raging chakra, that nearly had them crashing into the last remaining walls. “And what does it matter? They’re dead anyway.”

“It matters because you are _blind!_ ”, Hashirama cried. “It matters because I wasn’t there, when you needed me the most! It matters because-” Hashirama grasped his shoulders, staring nearly desperately into his best friend’s unseeing eyes. “- It’s _my_ fault!”

Still standing where the other side of the floor had been a few moments ago, Tobirama and Izuna looked at each other, before watching their older brothers again. What a mess… and while Izuna normally would be furious for Madara’s lost eyes, Hashirama’s reaction baffled even him.

Meanwhile, one of Madara’s slim eyebrows rose. “Oh, so you have been attacking the village? Good to know, you utter moron. Now, stop being a fucking failure! You ruined my house and-” A heavy coughing fit interrupted him, and he cursed, when he noticed the blood his lungs had been throwing up. His palm was covered in red. The herbs had supressed the fits, since he was very aware with Hashirama gone, there was nobody in the village able to help him. 

Within a single moment, the raging chakra calmed and Hashirama’s warm palm had slipped under Madara’s yukata, resting on his chest. The other wandered from his shoulder to the side of his throat and he grit his teeth. Bad. Whatever Madara had done, it hadn’t just cost him his sight, but also worsened his health immensely. He was bleeding internally, especially his lungs had been suffering -as those were his weak spot anyway, they always took hits harder. The deeper his chakra seeped, the direr Madara’s condition seemed to become. His lungs might be worst, however; his entire organism was severely strained and Hashirama could detect three internal bleedings, as well as two that had stopped not even an hour ago. “You need to-” 

_“Indra?”_ The voice boomed across the village, echoing in the silence of the night. It haled from the other side, where the great forest was deepest. “Are you all right? Is this… is this Ashura with you?”

Madara threw his best friend a sour glance. “Thanks, dickhead”, he hissed, before rising his voice. “It’s alright. Go back to sleep. Ashura isn’t here, you have been dreaming!”

Hashirama’s mouth fell open. “Wha-”

“Shut your communion hole”, the Uchiha hissed once more, before coughing again and spitting a mouthful of blood to the ground. “I don’t want it to wake up again. Ask your stupid questions later. I’m tired as fuck and since you destroyed our house, Izuna and I are going to sleep in yours.”

“Madara-sama”, one of the surrounding Senju piped up, “Are you certain about this? We don’t know what it’ll be up to once it wakes up.”

The Uchiha leader shrugged. “Can’t be worse than yesterday”, he determined. “Let it sleep, I’ll deal with it in the morning. If your moron of a clanhead wouldn’t have thrown a fit, it wouldn’t have woken at all.”

“And what”, Tobirama finally cut in, sounding rather sour, “Is it we’re talking about? There’s a massive concentration of chakra in the south-western forest.”

Madara shrugged. “And that’s what we’re talking about”, he summoned, coughing up some more blood and finally setting Hashirama into motion. “Let’s get you to bed, I need to take care of you.”

The shinobi around them spluttered but Hashirama just carefully dragged the Uchiha leader along, to tow him onto his own futon -he’d just grow a bed for himself later. Despite being blind, Madara’s eyes watched him judgingly, as he wondered once again how he was friends with this idiot of a Senju.

Carefully, Hashirama went to work. Knitting up organic tissue, he sealed the inner wounds, slowly stopping the bleeding. Madara’s entire metabolism had severely suffered, his body had been strained to a molecular level. Slowly, he tried to soothe the damaged cells. 

The Senju sighed. “Your lungs have worsened again.” At least, the mucus inside didn’t act up, but the small tears in his friend’s pulmonary tissue needed to be mended before they infected. One major bleeding -the one causing his blood coughs- had to be carefully closed, before he grasped Madara’s face. It still was a little too slim for his liking; Madara had lost weight again. He’d have to make effort for him to stay nourished in the upcoming weeks. But then, Madara’s weight had been a concern of his ever since the Uchiha had broken down on the battlefield. However, this wasn’t the main problem right now.

Carefully, his chakra seeped into the Uchiha’s eyes, trying to determine the damage. He had to find a way to undo it, to heal whatever had caused this much defect over such a short period of time. 

Hashirama sucked air through his teeth. The retina had completely dissolved, the nerve cords to Madara’s eyes ruptured. The lenses in his eyes had basically melted. There was no way these eyes would ever be able to function again the way they were now.

“That’s the price for the Mangekyou Sharingan”, Madara informed him calmly. “If grands power but degenerates your eyesight. Besides, the massive chakra flow drains the body physically. It’s nothing but a trade: The sight of your eyes for the power within.”

Hashirama didn’t respond, instead he tried to fix his friend’s blind eyes, not even bothering how long it would take and just barely noticing when the front-door opened and Tobirama entered, Izuna and a futon he had burrowed next to him.

He didn’t know when he finally lowered his hands. He had attempted to re-grow the retina several times, but the tissue would just dissolve mere moments after he had fixed it, no matter how much chakra he infused or how fast he worked. His nerve cords just remained entirely unchanged. There was no way to get Madara’s eyes functioning again and the realisation made the supressed fury bubble up angrily.

His eyes raked across the Uchiha’s sleeping features. He looked different when he slept. Peaceful, the lines on his face much less consuming. He looked younger by years. Beautiful. His father’s words danced in his ears, the ones he’d said when Hashirama had started to let his hair grow. _Beauty is for the weak only._ Oh, how very wrong Butsuma had been. Madara was the mightiest fighter on any battlefield, the only one being able to keep up with him. At least he had been, until… He felt his chakra rise again and grit his teeth in a fight for it to behave. Madara had fallen asleep -he didn’t even know when, just at some point during his treatment- and he wouldn’t want to wake a sensor as sensitive him just because his chakra ran havoc once more.

Carefully, he retreated, drawing a bedframe from the wall next to his friend. Soft leaves making his rest comfortable, he could feel even more of them covering him, radiating a soothing warmth, attempting to calm his rage.

Dawn broke, when he finally fell asleep.

 

“Madara!” 

He grabbed the Uchiha’s elbow, as he stumbled over a branch in his way. Growling, Madara straightened himself again. Izuna and Tobirama wisely remained silent, as Hashirama offered to lead him, making Madara nearly spit in his face, as he snarled about being blind, not disabled. The three of them refrained from stating that in fact, he was both.

Since Madara refused to tell them who exactly had attacked the village during their trip -and everyone else, Senju and Uchiha alike, agreed it wasn’t their place to talk about- the only way to find out was to do as the Uchiha had demanded: If they wanted to know what happened, he would show them. 

“Do you want me to-” “No”, Madara interrupted, declining whatever Hashirama had been up to. And it hurt. It _hurt_. Hashirama wondered how someone else’s pain could cause himself this very much agony. As a healer, he wasn’t unaccustomed to witnessing pain. However, this was something he found himself unable fight, as it clawed deeper into his heart every moment. _Left him alone. Blind. Your fault. Your fault._

“The chakra source is getting stronger”, Tobirama finally noted. It felt foul, overwhelmingly so. And most of all, it was strong. Nearly as strong as his older brother’s and entirely disgusting.

Madara continued his path, expecting the others to follow him. After all, they were the ones who wanted to know. “Remember to keep your weapons sheathed”, he reminded when they made it to a large rock prominence. Under it, protected by trees and rock, a giant body breathed heavily. Next to him, Tobirama and Izuna stiffened. 

“That’s a fucking Bijuu”, Izuna stated, crossing his arms. “Aniki, whatever you did, just don’t tell me-” “Indra?” The Ninetail’s booming voice was tired but still cut their eardrums. “You came… You brought Ashura. He killed you, Indra. Can’t you remember?”

“You attacked the village?”, Tobirama demanded, making the giant fox turn around, the movement certainly painful. “Why didn’t you tell them, Indra?”, it asked, but didn’t wait for an answer, instead going on slowly, as if to fight for every word. “Two shinobi… There were two shinobi. They attempted to attack me, I don’t know why, I don’t care. Humans… dreadful humans. I devoured them whole. But instead of dying, they… feasted on my flesh. When I realised, it was too late. They poisoned me… poisoned my chakra with theirs. I was fully conscious, forced to do their bidding. Indra… Indra was the one who fought me. And then, he killed them.” Its red eyes narrowed. “But tell me, tiny human… Who are you, daring questioning me?”

“Ah… that’s Tobirama, my little brother”, Hashirama piped in, making the Kyuubi turn to him. “Ashura”, it stated, quietly somehow, even though its voice was still booming. “I have missed you, Ashura… You have taken Indra from us. And then, you have never come to us again. Tell me, Ashura. Do you hate us? Do you hate your brothers?”

“Tobirama is my only remaining brother”, Hashirama answered, a little helplessly, and Madara sighed. “Whoever Indra and Ashura were, we aren’t them, Kyuubi. I have already told you.”

The Ninetails attempted to answer but was interrupted by a heavy gush of blood running from between its teeth. “Ah!” Hashirama stepped foward. “Do you want me to take a look at your injuries? I could-” “Anja”, his younger brother interrupted, hissing at the older Senju, “Would you get a grip on your medical-complex for about two minutes and actually think about what you’re offering?”

“I think you should help”, Izuna stated, making Tobirama frown. “I would expect you to oppose”, the Senju noted. “After all, Madara is blind due to the Kyuubi’s attack. What reason do we have to believe it, after all?”

“How about the fact I killed two shinobi the Ninetails threw up”, Madara interrupted, arms crossed, followed by a nod of his younger brother. “You wouldn’t have brought us here in the first place, if you wouldn’t believe any of this”, he stated. His faith in his older brother was unwavering; Madara’s actions had always spoken louder than his words. “Any idea why it insists on that Indra-name”, he asked, making his older brother shake his head. “I assume it’s the delirium talking”, he suspected. “But still, it’s suspicious. I’m no medic and the only one capable of healing a tailed beast is-” “Hashirama”, Izuna finished, nodding.

A moment passed in silence, before Hashirama grinned. “ _Yosh!_ ” His eyes shone with excitement. “Let’s get to work, then. Kyuubi! I need you to stay down. You’re too tall otherwise.”

Three wooden clones appeared from Hashirama’s back, jumping right to the heavily injured fox. “If you are going to slaughter me as well, so be it, Ashura”, the Ninetails declared. Hashirama huffed. “Don’t be so pessimistic!” He made way to the giant head, carefully lowering his hands on the orange fur, while his clones did the same at the Bijuu’s back, belly and nearly amputated hindleg. A mere moment after, Hashirama realised he wouldn’t just need chakra to heal the beast. He’d need _chakra_ , amounts no other medical shinobi came even close to possess. It was strange, the Bijuu nearly seemed to consist of compressed energy, instead of flesh. “I will start now”, he informed, before an impressive amount of chakra burst around him, as well as his three clones. Within seconds, the energy had been absorbed by the large beast and Hashirama closed his eyes in concentration. This was a first for him and while he loved the challenge, he wouldn’t want to fail.

The amount of chakra that was simply absorbed by the Kyuubi without even doing any good was enormous and Hashirama was well aware, it would drain even the most skilled of shinobi in minutes, maybe even less.

The clone on the beast’s hindleg started first, mending flesh and bone, connecting severed muscle, carefully repairing the giant gash while continuing to infuse ridiculous amounts of chakra so the one supposed to be dealing with the actual injury wouldn’t just get nullified as well.

Afterwards, the clone treating the Kyuubi’s belly started mending inner injuries, closing the punctured stomach first, that had gastric acid seeping into the fox’s organic tissue, before taking care of a ripped kidney.

Hashirama and his last remaining clone meanwhile sewed shut countless other injuries that weren’t just as grave, ranking from fractured bones to wounds that already had started to fester. 

Afterwards, he didn’t know how long he had been treating the giant fox but had to admit, even he felt a little tired with the enormous masses of chakra he had have to spend. The Ninetails had fallen asleep when he had been halfway done. His clones disappeared, and he straightened, making his aching back crack. “All done”, he declared, making way back to Madara and their little brothers. 

“You don’t want to wake it?”, Tobirama asked sceptically, making Izuna snort. “Are you insane? People get fucking pissed if you wake them for nothing and I don’t think being a Bijuu makes a difference for that.” The younger Senju lifted an eyebrow. It wasn’t that he was keen on a Tailed Beast attacking their village anytime soon, but truth was, it might. He would rather avoid that.

“Tell your Senju to leave it be”, Madara ordered. “The Uchiha will do the same. If it tries to attack again, so be it. I’m already blind, can’t get worse for me. Besides, with the four of us combined, fighting off another attack will be far less of an issue.”

Hashirama nodded. “Let’s go back to the village, then”, he declared. “I want to treat your lungs again; you need to cough up more.”

“Fucking tyrant.”

 

Truth to be told, Hashirama hadn’t forgotten to rebuild the Uchiha clanheads’ house during the last few days. Neither was he too tired, unconcentrated, or -least of all- lazy. He just… he just enjoyed Madara’s presence at his home. Right now, the two of them were standing next to each other on the cliff, watching over their village. Hashirama’s mood darkened. Well, he watched. Madara just… Slowly, his smile lowered. Madara just kept him company.

“Hokage.”

His best friend’s blind eyes turned to him. “Hm?”

“Ho-ka-ge. The Shadow of Fire. Someone who protects the village and its citizens from the shadows. I think… That’s what our leader should be called”, he declared, eyes still resting on their village. “Besides the Senju and the Uchiha, it seems the Sarutobi and Shimura clans also want to join.”

“The Yamanaka are considering as well”, Madara agreed, making Hashirama beam at him and the Uchiha could nearly physically feel the joy he was radiating. “We need to elect a leader soon…” He still wanted Madara to be the one, but refrained from bringing up the topic again, “And we’re going to need to come up with a name for the village, too.” He turned to the Uchiha at his side. “Any thoughts?”

Madara kept quiet for a while, instead carefully drawing a single leaf the wind had carried to him through his fingers. As it was just spring, it was still soft, dry and felt almost fluffy. He knew their village had been erected in the middle of the forest, the trees still pale green as they always were right after winter. Tender. Breakable. Promising the start of something far greater. “How about…” His thump caressed the soft surface his eyes were unable to see, “Konoha…gakure. The Village hidden in the Leaves?”

He could nearly hear the depressive cloud slamming Hashirama’s face down. “It’s too simple. It’s not imaginative.” His voice became even more sullen. “You called it exactly as you saw it.”

“I’m not seeing anything, you depressive bastard”, Madara bawled, making his best friend flinch at his inept chosen words. However, before he could apologise, the Uchiha waltzed on. “Besides, how’s it different from ‘Hokage’?! And you still get depressed over nothing! Tch!” The Uchiha stared ahead. “How did I even become friends with you moron?”

Hashirama peeked up from under his raining cloud. “Well, it all started when you tried to skip that rock and-” “Fuck off!”

And just like that, the outburst of temper the Uchiha leader was infamous for all across fire country was over and he smiled. “It doesn’t truly matter, does it”, he finally asked. “The names, I think. Names mean nothing. But this… this is so much more. I will protect it with all my might, the devil may dare.”

For a moment, Hashirama just watched his best friend’s features. How his hair gleamed in the sun, streaks of blue making it so much more intense, like silky onyx. The fair skin, the regal features, underlined by the deep lines beneath his eyes. Madara was a beautiful man indeed, way more so than he would ever be, and he wasn’t jealous about it. No, he was… He was… Hashirama frowned. He was _something_. He just couldn’t determine what. Without his doing, his fingers reached out. He admired the Uchiha’s beauty, but he would never dare to- “There you are! What are you dawdling here for?”

Hashirama flinched guiltily. (Why? He hadn’t done anything. He had just been… just…)

“The Yamanaka have arrived”, Izuna added, standing next to the younger Senju. They had been searching for their brothers for nearly half an hour by now, before finally making way up here.

Side by side, the four brothers made way back to their village.

Konohagakure. Konohagakure it was.


	10. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which so much stuff was supposed to happen, but now it's all talk.

“No!”

“But-”

“Fuck off!”

“You can’t just-”

“I’ll throw you the fuck out of here!”

“This is _my_ house!”

On the first floor, Izuna sighed, sipping on his tea. “You think they’ll stop anytime soon?”

At the other side of the table, Tobirama’s face didn’t betray any emotion, as he stirred some soy-sauce into his rice. “No.”

“- destroyed my fucking house!”

“I already said I’m sorry!”

The young Uchiha rubbed his forehead. “I think I’m getting a headache.”

“Don’t you start, too”, Tobirama warned. “My brother’s medical complex doesn’t stop at Madara. At this rate, we’ll never get anything done.”

He was right. Their two brothers were still -to put it nicely- discussing about the upcoming election. Since Uchiha and Senju had been the ones to found it, their clans were to be the ones to elect the future leader of the village. And if they wanted it to stay that way, they had to hurry: Negotiations with the Yamanaka were nearly finished, the clan was more than willing to join Konohagakure. The Sarutobi and Shimura weren’t far behind and they’d need to elect a leader -a Hokage (fucking shit, Izuna thought; Hashirama was just as unimaginative as his older brother)- before any of the other clans officially joined the village.

However; they seemed to be at a dead end here.

“ _You_ should be Hokage!”

Ah, cutting to the core once more, Tobirama noted wryly. 

“Everyone will vote for you, anyway!”

“In that case, it won’t hurt to put yourself up for election!”

Here we go again, Izuna asserted.

“I won’t”, Madara answered simply, making his little brother sigh deeply. While Hashirama wanted Madara to become Hokage, his older brother right out refused, no matter how the Senju-leader approached the topic. He didn’t know if Hashirama was aware, but Madara was deeply convinced, no-one besides his little brother and Hashirama himself would vote for him, Senju and Uchiha alike, for… various reasons. The latest -his blindness- had Izuna curl his hands into fists, hidden under the table.

It was cruel indeed, Izuna thought, that even before his physical blindness, a metaphorical one was already upon his brother. The people of Konoha adored Madara. He had heard them talk and whisper in a way his older brother didn’t -a certain benefit of not being the one in spotlight all the time. 

How he had taken on Hashirama, even in his critically ill state, to protect his younger brother. 

How he hadn’t expected to live long enough to see the village come to fruition but still did everything in his power to make it flourish.

How he had fought his own clansman, in order to keep their union up.

How he had taken on the Kyuubi by himself to protect them all, losing his eyesight in the process.

Of course, Hashirama was just as admired, the way he had protected Madara when Fukito and Masaru attempted to slaughter him on the battlefield just one example. 

Meanwhile, the bickering on the upper floor intensified. “Aniki won’t step down”, Izuna muttered, making Tobirama huff. “Tell me about it”, he grumbled, before leaning back in his seat a little, done with his lunch. “We need to call on elections within the next three days, if we want to avoid trouble with the Yamanaka”, he stated, making Izuna nod broodily. “How are we going to do any of it, with my brother being a mule?”, he asked, frowning. “He wants Hashirama to be declared Hokage and be done with it. We can’t just throw his hat in the ring without his approval.”

The Senju nodded. “I agree. And neither can we just declare Hashirama Hokage. The village is the start of a new era and the old ways have no place here; our new leader has to be elected democratically.” Even if they didn’t want to.

“I have an idea”, Izuna finally stated, resting his cheek in his palm. “It might be brilliant… or backfire right on our asses.”

Tobirama’s eyes glinted. “I’m all ears.”

 

“Go fuck yourself!”

“You’re literally in my bedroom!”

“Shouldn’t stop you and your obnoxious touchy complex!”

“You know what? Fine, then! Here, take my-”

“You fucking pervert! Put that on again! I can’t believe I’m friends with you, you exhibitionistic asshole!”

“You’re just jealous because you can’t even pee when someone’s watching!”

“Oh, so we’re digging out the old stuff? So, what about that one time when we-”

One floor down, a single Senju swallowed. “Shouldn’t we… Stop them or something?”

Izuna snorted. “You want to go upstairs and stop them? Give it a shot. I’ll be waiting down here, when Aniki kicks you straight through the floor. They’re at it since…” “Three thirty”, Tobirama supplied, making Izuna huff. At this point, he didn’t even know who was worse; Hashirama who refused to back down, or Madara who very much did the same. Upstairs, something crashed, and he didn’t even care any longer who had knocked over a vase, a painting, a chair or whatever it was that had fallen into the line of rage. “Aniki usually goes hoarse after around two hours. This is a personal best.”

“Lucky you”, the albino in front of him grumbled. The two of them sat hunched over a pile of papers and scrolls, obviously planning something they were unwilling to share at this point. “Hashirama never does.” Curse him and his regenerative throat. Then, he finally steered his attention back to the Senju in front of them, who was looking rather insecure by now. “Tsubisa”, he greeted. “What brings you here?” It had to be something rather important, since Tsubisa had let himself in, when nobody answered his knocking -with was frankly spoken due to none of them hearing it over the sound of their idiotic brothers upstairs.

“The Kyuubi has woken up.”

As the beast had fallen asleep right after Hashirama’s treatment, two Senju and two Uchiha had been guarding it, commanded to retreat and report immediately, if it grew to be aggressive. “Did it attack?”, Tobirama therefore demanded, making Tsubisa shake his head in denial. “No. But it… asked to meet Hashirama-sama and Madara-sama.”

“You know what? Fuck you! I’ll rather deal with the Ninetails than your sorry ass!”

“Wha- Madara! You can’t go alone! Oi! Wait for me!”

“Have a wank in the kitchen, I don’t give a fuck!”

The Uchiha leader made his way downstairs, right to the entrance, where he’d taken off his shoes before entering the house. He bent down to grasp them where he’d left them and his hands found nothing but the clean wooden floor. A heavy silence lowered itself upon them, as once again they were reminded that even though he was still an exceptional shinobi, Madada was indeed blind. He seemed so unfazed by it, so uncaring, that one could simply assume he was still the same as before the battle. Izuna supressed the reflex to rush at his brother’s side to aid him, as he knew it would only make him feel like a cripple. He hated being reminded of his handicap. 

“Ah!” Tsubisa was the first one to react. “I’m sorry, Madara-sama! I put your shoes aside when I entered! Let me-” Before he was able to do whatever it was he had been up to, Hashirama stepped forth, making his clansman retreat. He took the sandals -just half a meter to Madara’s left. “Let me”, he offered quietly, getting down on his knees in front of the Uchiha, carefully taking one of his feet and slipping it into the sandal, before lacing the strings and carefully brushing his index finger over a small cut he had probably obtained by stepping on a sharp rock or the end of a branch, healing the small wound in a careful caress.

When he was done, he continued with the Uchiha’s other foot, making the raven blink. “What… do you think you’re doing”, he asked, voice hoarse. On his knees in front of him, Hashirama gently lowered the still naked foot into the other shoe, smiling, even though his friend was unable to see it. “Just helping a little.” He tucked the laces and stood again, before putting on his own shoes. “Let’s get going!” He grabbed Madara’s hand, ignoring the Uchiha’s indignant splutter, before dragging him along next to him, carefully making sure his every step was safe.

Left behind, the two younger brothers threw each other a look. Leaving these two to deal with a giant demonic fox just screamed for trouble. Delaying their plans be for today, they took off right after, leaving behind poor Tsubisa.

 

“There we are”, Hashirama declared, making Madara next to him snort. “I would’ve been able to get here on my own, you know?”, he asserted, making the Senju hum, before he turned to the Kyuubi sitting on its hind legs, towering above them. It hadn’t moved from its former place, still sitting beneath the large ledge he had slept under. “I see you’ve woken up.” Hashirama smiled. “Want me to take another look at you?”

For a long moment, the giant fox kept silent, watching the Senju leader sharply, before finally speaking up. “You are not Ashura”, it declared, voice booming even though it wasn’t particularly loud and ignoring the former question. Its pupils narrowed, and the long ears flattened a little, as it growled. “Tell me, tiny human… why did you spare me?”

“Oh.” The Senju blinked. “You’ll have to ask Madara. He was the one who fought you. I just healed you up a little afterwards.” 

The Ninetails’ piercing gaze lowered on the Uchiha, its pupils by now even tighter slits that usual. “Madara… That is your name? Well, then. Why did you spare me… chakra-thief?”

The raven-haired man frowned. “I didn’t steal anything, least of all chakra”, he stated, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “And I didn’t kill you, because you obviously weren’t in your right mind. I killed the two shinobi who steered you. You even asked me to do so… and kept calling me Indra, even though I don’t know whom you were referring to.”

“Ah.” The Kyuubi rose its head, looking somewhere in the distance nobody else was able to see. “You people have already forgotten. But it is no wonder, I assume. You are short-lived, after all.”

“Forgotten what?” Out of the trees, Tobirama and Izuna descended next to their brothers, the former the one having asked. The Kyuubi’s teeth bared. “And who are you, disrupters?”, it demanded, making Hashirama spread his arms soothingly. “Tobirama and Izuna, our little brothers”, he introduced, making the Ninetails go still for a moment, before declaring: “They are no brothers of mine.”

“But we are?”, Hashirama asked, visibly confused, making the giant fox watch him for a moment too long, before swiftly asking: “What about these”, obviously referring to the three remaining shinobi.

“They were to guard you while you were unconscious. None of us knew how you would react upon waking. If you want them gone, they will leave”, Madara stated, making it obvious the two newcomers wouldn’t be included by the order.

“I do not care”, the demon fox finally decided, before its red eyes fixated Tobirama. “Be careful, so-called brother of his… the hand that struck down one sibling already will have less qualms doing so again.”

The Senju who had been ordered to guard the sleeping Bijuu alongside Tsubisa gasped, as Tobirama curled his hands into fists, taking a step forth. “How dare you-” It was Hashirama’s outstretched arm that stopped him. “What are you referring to?”, he asked quietly, unfazed by his little brother’s anger. There was something deep here, something most significant, that would explain so very much. He just had the _feeling_ that whatever it was, the Kyuubi referred to, would… he wasn’t certain about what it would. But he was certain it was important.

“If you truly seek answers”, the Ninetails offered after a silence that dragged too long, “I will tell you. But I warn you… It will be long ones. And some stories are better off forgotten.”

Thick, fluffy moss blossomed from the ground, as Madara sat down cross-legged and Hashirama laughed sheepishly (he hadn’t intended, he really didn’t! It just kind of… happened sometimes), as the Uchiha threw him a sour glance before taking a seat as well, followed by a hesitating Izuna. Tobirama preferred standing. “We’re all in.”

For a moment, the beast watched them, a strange expression crossing its face, before it slowly began talking, its voice quiet despite its booming volume. “Centuries upon centuries ago, in an era of endless war… a woman named Ōtsutsuki Kaguya existed. She wished the everlasting fights to end.” Hashirama threw his best friend a quick look. That sounded familiar enough. “In an attempt to gain enough power to end the bloodshed, she consumed the fruit of the God Tree, even though her clan was in desperate need to harvest it… Thus becoming the first person endowed with chakra. She ended the wars, taking control over the nations and finally gave birth to twin sons. Hagoromo and Hamura were the first ones to be born with chakra. But good things never last… Kaguya sought to unite all chakra within herself-” “But… Why would she do that?”, Hashirama interrupted, genuinely confused, making the demon fox sigh. “Do not be so impatient. Even though the question you ask is a good one, the answer is even longer than this story. I might tell you some other time… if you still are interested. Now, however… Kaguya’s desire to reclaim her chakra finally set her up against her very own sons, for those were the only ones alongside her possessing it. She merged with the God Tree-” Hashirama opened his mouth, “I do not know how”, Hashirama’s mouth closed, “Becoming a ten-tailed monstrosity.” Ah, if that didn’t sound suspicious, Madara thought, watching the Bijuu’s many tails. 

“So, I guess the brothers fought her”, Izuna assumed, making the Kyuubi turn towards him. “Indeed, they did”, it confirmed. “Hagoromo and Hamura sealed the beast -at the time unknowing it was their mother- using its very shell to do so. The remains formed what today is known as moon.”

Every shinobi listening rose their heads, watching the pale silhouette that had yet to fade from the sky. The… moon? That was, frankly spoken, ridiculous. No jutsu would be powerful enough to create a whole celestial body! And besides… “What does this have to do with my brother”, Tobirama demanded. Touching as this story might be, it didn’t get them any answers, just rising new questions the beast seemed to be unwilling to discuss for the moment. “Everything”, the Ninetails growled in answer. “But if you do not wish to hear what I have to tell you, I might as well leave!”

“Ah!” Hashirama looked to his brother, then to the giant fox. “Tobirama always wants to cut straight to the core… He’s never been one for long stories, even as a child. Please, don’t take it personal. I really want to hear what happened next!” At this point, it didn’t really matter if everything the Kyuubi told them was nonsense or made up. He just wanted to know… whatever it was, that was so incredible important. And since Madara hadn’t interrupted the story once, he was quite certain the Uchiha thought the same.

“Hamura took over leadership of the Ōtsutsuki clan”, the demon fox continued after another moment, “And departed to the moon to guard the beast's remains, while Hagoromo remained on Earth in order to spread chakra to humanity. They named him… The Sage of Six Paths.”

“No way!” Izuna gasped, eyes nearly bulging out. The Sage of Six Paths was a myth! A legend! A story, small children were told to fall asleep to, but- “Ah… So, he has not been forgotten.” In a way, that was a relief. Hagoromo being forgotten was just wrong in so many ways and hurt in many more. He had deeply desired peace, even though he knew a goal great as this wouldn’t be achieved in his lifetime. The demon fox remembered their last talk, right before his death, how the tears had fallen for days afterwards, as the nine of them had lost him to old age.

“Hagoromo fathered two sons. Indra, the older one, was intelligent and mighty, a born leader”, the fox waltzed on, before anyone else was able to interrupt again. He wanted to get this over with, before the memories became overwhelming. “Ashura, the second, proved the be the opposite. However, he had a way to befriend all those around him and uniting people in a way nobody else could.” Izuna and Tobirama shared a look. If this didn’t suspiciously sound like- “Inspired by his younger son’s way of love, Hagoromo separated the ten tailed beast’s chakra within his body and divided it into nine separated bodies. That is how we Bijuu were born.”

Hashirama rested his head on his cheek, looking thoughtful. “So, what you’re saying is that the tailed beasts were created by the Sage of Six Paths from the sealed chakra of his mother who merged with a tree.” He blinked. “That sounds… Kinda awkward.”

“You’re the one who’s awkward.” Madara huffed. “And stop growing these berries all around me.”

The Senju leader looked aside, finally noticing the branches filled with thick, ripe and red berries, one of them nearly twining around the Uchiha’s ankle. The raven picked a berry up and threw it at Hashirama’s head, making him pout. “You could just eat them, you know?”, he sulked, making Madara roll his eyes, before resting them on the Kyuubi again. He had the feeling the story was wrapping up… and the ending wouldn’t be a happy one. Unfortunately, those were for children only. Life tended to be cruel.

The fox stayed silent for too long again, before continuing its story, looking at the two clan leaders and at the same time, straight through them, as if seeing something -someone?- nobody else did. “I… We… All of us… Considered Hagoromo our father. We loved him deeply. And we loved his sons, too. As they were our father’s sons, they were our brothers. We loved them, all nine of us. Helped them with ninshū whenever we could. I do not know how often Matatabi -whom you will only know as Two-Tails- let Ashura practise his ninshū with her, as her wavering chakra made it easier for Ashura to grasp it. And I loved them. Oh, how I loved our brothers…” The giant head lowered, and claws crushed stone and dirt, as they dug into the ground, shaking the underground. “But nothing good ever lasts. Father needed to name a successor, and things went… wrong, more than once. When Hagoromo named Ashura his successor, Indra was outraged. The two brothers fought each other to the death and ultimately… Indra lost. That day, he swore to make his path reality, no matter how many lifetimes it would take.”

The Kyuubi looked aside and for a moment, it nearly seemed to cry. “Ashura never visited any of us again… And we hadn’t lost just one brother, but two. Father’s ninshū soon was forgotten, forged into nin-jutsu, no longer the power of peace, but of war. Indra had proven to be right… and we tailed beasts weren’t considered more than massive chakra-sources, just a few generations after father’s death.” Its red eyes fixated Madara once more. He had been the only one to not interrupt him, listening quietly, as he always did… Just like Indra had always used to. “During the battle with you, I was barely conscious. But I recognised you… I always would. I begged for your help… because all I perceived within you in that moment was Indra’s chakra, that I thought lost forever when his own brother slayed him more than an era ago.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry the chapter took so long. I really had a hard time with it... Kurama's story was a mess. I originally wanted to skip it, but that didn't work out, after that it turned out way too long, and now it's... well, this.  
> In case you're wondering why it may differ from anime and/or manga: This is Kurama's view on the past. Therefore, it differs from Hagoromo's story a litte, especially considering Indra and Ashura.


	11. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The multiverse theorie explains, in an infinite number of universes, an infinite number of differing realities co-exist. Hashirama has never been much of a scientist, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of you asked about the Uzumaki. You're totally right with that, but... To be honest, this whole story was supposed to be a OneShot. A few thousand words, tops. And then, somehow, this happened and Poof... thirty-thousand words ongoing. So, yeah... I didn't forget about them, I just don't know yet how to include them into the story. It will happen, though. At some point. Somehow.  
> Also, I'll have you know that the stuff that didn't happen yet in this chapter was supposed to happen in the last chapter and now happenes in the next chapter. Can't take THAT much longer to name a Hokage, after all (btw, who'd you prefer? Hashirama or Madara? Or someone else who actually has their shit together?).

“So, what you are saying is, my brother’s chakra is similar to Indra’s”, Izuna attempted to sum the story up, having the Ninetails bare its teeth at him. “What I am saying is, that his chakra _is_ Indra’s”, it clarified. Did the brat not listen? Everyone knew chakra was as unique as fingerprints. Even twins didn’t share their chakra-markers, even though they often were quite similar.

“But what about-” “I am not Indra”, Madara interrupted whatever Hashirama attempted to say. “And Hashirama is not Ashura.” The Uchiha might be blind, but he wasn’t deaf. The demon fox had called his best friend by the at that time unfamiliar name more than once. It’s wasn’t that hard to put two and two together. “We aren’t the brothers you lost, no matter what you think. My father was Uchiha Tajima” Who hopefully rotted in hell right now, “And my brother is Uchiha Izuna. Whatever you wish to see in us, Kyuubi, it isn’t-” 

“Kurama.” This time, it was the demon fox who interrupted, making Madara frown. “My name is Kurama”, the Ninetails repeated, making Izuna’s mouth drop open. That Bijuu had a _name_? “Father named all of us”, the fox clarified, before its long ears flattened against its skull. “But as the humans forgot about our origin, they forgot about our names, as well. By now, we are nothing to them, but weapons they seek to abuse for their own goals.”

Hashirama’s face showed what he exceled at: Empathy. “I’m sorry for your loss”, he offered, truly serene. Losing beloved ones was always harsh, no matter the circumstances. If he imagined Kuwarama and Itama battle each other to death, he found he couldn’t even bear the thought. “But Madara is right, I’m not Ashura. And I could never…” His eyes darkened. “I could never kill Madara… Or Tobirama. I’d rather gut myself.” Would he? Would he truly? For a moment, the darkest image flashed his mind. No. No, he could never… could he? “But… The Senju and Uchiha forged our village to overcome old hatred and senseless war. We might not be your brothers… But you could join, as well.” The Senju leader’s face was bright with hope. “There’s a place for everyone who wishes for peace in Konohagakure, you know!” The longer he talked about it, the more the idea appealed to him. “You should come with us!”

For a moment, even Tobirama was speechless by this much… this much… _Hashiramaness_! He knew his brother was a do-gooder, he always had been the most shining example of one. But asking a Bijuu to join their barely months old village was too much, even for him. “Anjia! Would you cut it out and just turn on that brain of yours for even a moment”, he snapped, arms crossed. “Negations with the Yamanaka are nearly over, the Sarutobi are nearly as close to joining, but nobody agreed to this!”

Obviously confused, Hashirama turned to him. “That’s because not even we could know this would happen”, he explained, as if it was the most obvious fact this side of fire country. “They’ll still join.”

“We all heard rumours about other villages forming. Hosting a Bijuu in ours won’t help obtaining peace.” Harsh as it was, their largest goal had to be the safe-keeping of their people! There already had been an attempt in destroying Konohagakure, they couldn’t afford another!

Hashirama frowned. “He said his name is Kurama”, he corrected his brother and his tone indicated this new idea of his was as unbreakable as his mokuton. “Even if we aren’t his actual brothers, he could still live with us! It’s not his fault he attacked the village, after all.”

Kurama frowned, the expression looking rather threatening on his features, even if it wasn’t intended. “And what _does_ make us brothers?”, he asked. “We Bijuu are chakra-constructs. Father created us, giving us a body, an identity… our origin differs from yours, blood and birth mean little to us. But Indra and Ashura were his sons as well, born from Hagoromo’s chakra -the same chakra he created us with. The very same one, that lives on in you.”

While Izuna opened his mouth to protest -it wasn’t that easy! Madara was _his_ brother, after all!- Hashirama beamed. “In that case, there’s even more reason to join the village!”

Tobirama supressed the urge to bury his face in his hands. Kami, what had he done to deserve that brother of his?

Madara took a deep breath. “Hashirama…” “Yes?”, the Senju asked brightly, turning towards his friend. However, before the Uchiha was able to answer, the Ninetails interrupted him. “A lot has changed over all these centuries… you did not.”

While both, Tobirama and Izuna frowned upon this remark, Hashirama was way too busy being ridiculously excited and happy about his new idea. Kurama was the one to break the awkward moment. “So many years have passed… all of us have come to terms with our brothers gone, our father’s death. Us, forgotten and hated. I cannot answer your demand now… Hashirama. I will talk to the others, for we haven’t meet in a long time. The hatred we were met with also spread amongst ourselves, separating us from each other. Matatabi will be overjoyed, I believe. She has always loved you most… as I loved Indra best.”

Hashirama’s face fell upon the Kyuubi’s declaration. “But you will come back, won’t you?”, he asked, making Kurama go still for a moment, before the edges of his maw turned upwards, showing even more of his gleaming teeth. “I promise.”

 

_“Hashirama!”_

_“Madara!”_

_The two of them dashed at each other, Madara’s eyes glowing with something dark, not too far from madness, his features a mask of fury. Behind him, the Ninetails roared, and Hashirama summoned his mokuton to bind the raging beast._

_Hours upon hours passed and at some point, the Bijuu got sealed away, punished for a deed that was never its fault in the first place._

_Facing each other at the river, panting and bleeding, Hashirama drew his katana once more. He had to protect his village! He had to protect his people! And he would annihilate everyone who dared to oppose it! That was his duty as Hokage._

_He flashed behind Madara’s unprotected back, tricking him with a wooden clone, since the lack of chakra had forced him to deactivate his Sharingan. With lightning speed, the katana cut muscle and flesh; blood splattered over his hands and-_

_“No!”_

Panting heavily, Hashirama jolted out of sleep, stumbling towards the bathroom, where he fell to his knees and emptied his clenching stomach into the toilet. His hands… He had to wash his hands. Had to clean them of Madara’s blood. 

He pushed himself up, wet fingers nearly slipping on the cold floor. He was… He did…

“Hashirama?”

The Senju flinched but didn’t stop until he had reached the sink, turning on boiling hot water, scrubbing his hands. Blood swirled down the drain. 

“Hashirama! What the hell are you doing?”

His skin was an angry shade of red by now, his body regenerating the burned tissue just fast enough it didn’t blister. The water was clean by now, but he still couldn’t stop. There was more, had to be more, the blood had splattered everywhere, gotten into his hair, on his face, had… A rough hand tore him backwards, away from the steaming water. “What are you doing, you idiot”, Madara barked, making Hashirama look at him, a look of pure panic plastered on his face. “I killed you… I killed you, because… I can’t be Hokage! I will not! Madara!”

The Uchiha frowned. Nightmares weren’t uncommon for shinobi – quite the opposite, actually- but he hadn’t seen anyone react this violently. “Calm down, Hashirama”, he ordered. Thank Kami, Izuna and Tobirama were out for tonight, even though he had no idea what exactly their little brothers were up to. “You had a nightmare. It wasn’t real. Let’s get you some water.”

Hashirama shook his head violently. He couldn’t stomach anything right now, but his mind cleared a little. He looked at his hands. The tortured skin already healed, and he supressed the urge to clean himself again. Madara’s blood had been much too bright on his toned skin. “I killed you”, he finally whispered. “We fought… And I killed you. I thought I had to, because it was my duty as Hokage to defend the village, even from you. I had to clean my hands, had to… had to…” He didn’t know. All he knew was one thing. “I can’t be Hokage, Madara! I can’t ever hurt you!” He sank down to the floor again and after a moment, Madara sat down next to him. 

“I’m here”, he finally stated. “And I’m not going anywhere. It was just a dream, Hashirama.” Probably a result from the attack of the Kyuubi, mixed with its tale about Ashura killing his older brother and Hashirama’s general aversion to become Hokage for some reason.

Hashirama pulled Madara towards himself, burying his face in his mane of midnight blue hair. He smelled of ashes, hot stones and warmth and something that was solely Madara, he guessed, closing his eyes. The closeness calmed him. Madara was here, he was very much alive in his arms. Hashirama didn’t… Didn’t kill him. He could never. His arms tightened around the Uchiha’s slim body.

Meanwhile, Madara was stuck in his friend’s embrace, his back stiff, his eyes wide. Hashirama had always been a touchy person, but this was another level. What had gotten into that idiot Senju? Just… He took a deep breath -and failed, as Hashirama’s chest was right in the way of his own, as the Senju tightened his hold even farther. He could feel Hashirama’s warm breath in his hair. It was still uneven, even stuttering at times.

After a while -and after Hashirama didn’t release him- Madara awkwardly patted his back. “It’s alright”, he tried his best to soothe once more. “I’m right here. You can let go now.”

And Hashirama, stubborn fucker that he was, just tightened his hold, as to never let go. 

Finally, the Senju loosened his hold a little, even though he still refused to let go. “I dreamed you attacked the village”, he explained, way too quietly for his usual cheery self, unable to look at his best friend. “We fought… And I killed you.” He shuddered, his hold on Madara shaking a little. “I stabbed you and your blood splattered everywhere. I woke up and felt as though my hands were still covered in it. I went to the bathroom and cleaned them, over and over again.” The _until you stopped me_ went unsaid and Madara frowned. “Did hurt yourself?”, he asked, making the Senju mimic his expression. “No”, he negated and slowly turned around, to see whatever had caught Madara’s attention.

On the ground, right next to the toilet, a single handprint glinted wetly in the dim light, the blood not having dried yet. The far too familiar metallic smell had been caught by the Uchiha first, his other senses having intensified with the absence of his eyesight.

Hashirama staggered backwards. “I didn’t”, he gasped retreating until his back met the opposite wall. “I... I would never…” _Oh, but you did, didn’t you?_ He could nearly hear Madara’s voice, mocking him from out of his nightmare. _You are a hypocrite, Hashirama. So much for the great Hokage!_ Madara’s voice grew taunting. _Did you enjoy killing me, Hashirama? After all, victory is always sweet._ “No… No, no, no! I didn’t!” Hashirama’s voice got louder, the taste of panic creeping back into it, as his hands clawed into the Uchiha’s yukata. “Madara! I swear, I could never! I can’t-” The last thing he saw were two Sharingan staring back into his own panicked eyes.

When Hashirama’s eyes fell shut, Madara breathed in relief. It had probably not been the best, but he couldn’t think of any other way to solve the situation. His gen-jutsu had put Hashirama into sleep, he just didn’t know how long. As soon as he had calmed a little, he would be able to snap out of it. The jutsu hadn’t been a strong one -at least not for someone of Hashirama’s calibre. However; leaving him be in his current state had been out of question. Whatever had happened in his dream, it had clearly disturbed him deeply. 

He carefully took the Senju back to his futon. Whatever had happened here, it would have to wait until morning. 

 

Hashirama was sitting on a glade, sunshine warming his face, calming his raging thoughts. Around him, the tree-leaves gently shuddered in a breeze. When he had arrived, he had been upset, panicked, but couldn’t remember why. Madara had advised taking some time off, wandering amongst the trees, as his element always put him at ease.

He took in a deep breath and tilted his face, so the sunrays would warm him. His thoughts had calmed, finally. Madara had been right, taking a walk had certainly helped. Except… He frowned. Except Madara had never advised him to. Except he never actually _went_ to the forest. He had already been here from the start.

His eyes widened, and he clapped his palms together in a single seal. _”Kai!”_

“That was fast”, Madara commented, when Hashirama sat up on his futon. 

“It was a weak gen-jutsu”, the Senju answered. Madara hadn’t even used his Mangekyou to cast it, otherwise escaping would have been hard even for him. “How long was I out?”

“Thirty-seven minutes”, the raven answered. “Are you feeling better now?” 

Hashirama smiled, the notion bitter. “No. But I’m at my senses again.”

Madara nodded. Hashirama had always been an emotional person -way too much so, for a shinobi- but this had been exceptionally intense, even for him. “Let’s get some breakfast”, he offered. It was still too early, but he doubted either of them could go back to sleep now. However, before he was able to get up from his makeshift place next to the futon, Hashirama’s hands had clasped his face, battle-roughed palms gentle on his skin. Even though his own eyes failed him, he could feel Hashirama’s gaze bore into his. (Madara had beautiful eyes, didn’t he? The most exquisite shade of living onyx, luring him to let himself be captured by their sheer unending depth). The Senju was close enough he could feel his warm breath. “Hashirama.” He could also feel heat rising in his cheeks. “What are you-” “I’ll always protect you.” The Senju’s voice was barely above a whisper. “No matter what, I’ll be with you! Even if one day, you decide to leave behind the village, I’ll be by your side.” His voice grew even closer, as Hashirama gently rested his forehead on Madara’s. “Whatever happened tonight, I won’t let it become reality”, he swore, closing his eyes. It couldn’t. He couldn’t bear the thought of Madara gone, of him being left behind due to his own doing.

“Tch!” Madara averted his blind eyes, wishing he could cover his reddening cheeks. “Why would I ever leave the village, when we just founded it… idiot.”

He could feel Hashirama smile at him. “It doesn’t matter. Just know that if you do, I’ll follow you. No matter why, no matter when.” By now, the pads of his thumps drew small circles on the Uchiha’s burning cheeks. “I’ll always be with you. No matter what happens, I won’t ever leave you alone.”

Madara drew in a shaking breath, attempting to regain at least some dignity. What the hell did this idiot think he was doing? One tiny little nightmare and he went insane! How did someone like him even become clan leader in the first place? “You better do now, because I have to take a piss”, he finally forced out, making the Senju go still for a minute, before he threw back his head and laughed. (Hashirama had a beautiful laugh, didn’t he? Sometimes, it seemed he wanted the whole world to share his joy). “Well, since we haven’t been able to work on your complex yet, I’ll leave you be”, he mocked, releasing his hold on his best friend’s face (his skin felt cold where Hashirama had abandoned it). “Take your time, I’ll be downstairs making breakfast. I could eat a horse!”

If he meant that literally, Madara was so going to kick him out of his own house. And since he already was at that… “You still have to replace our house. And don’t forget the aviary. My birds are sick of having to stay in the old village.”

Hashirama’s head drooped a little, a sad small cloud forming above him. “I didn’t mean to, you know”, he mumbled. “I’m really sorry.”

The Uchiha sniffed. “Stick it up your ass. You wrecked it, after all.” Thank Kami his birds had taken off when Hashirama’s chakra had started to demolish the house. His aviary’s entrance was always opened, his birds came and went as they wanted to. They were no prisoners of his.

“How about I’ll make you breakfast first?”, Hashirama offered hopefully -and a little desperate, maybe- making his friend sigh exasperated. “That better be the damn best breakfast this side of fire country”, he huffed, before getting up, making his way to the kitchen alongside the Senju, who was way too happy about simply eating together with his oldest friend.

Humming a small cheerful tone, Hashirama fried some fish, before preparing a handful of vegetables to be served with it. There still was enough leftover rice for the two of them. “Tobirama and Izuna didn’t make it home for the night”, he noted, putting plates on the table. “Who knows what those two are plotting”, the Uchiha grumbled, coughing a little. Hashirama carefully lowered a hand on his chest to ease the stinging. He'd treat him in a suitable manner after breakfast, as he had always done the last days. Each on their own, their brothers were bad enough. But whatever it was they were up to now gave him a headache just by thinking about it. “I would put nothing behind them.”

“Ah”, Hashirama breathed. “They’re not _that_ bad. They want what’s best for the village, both of them.”

Madara’s eyes narrowed at him, as the Senju sat down next to him. “You do realise, what they believe is best for Konoha might actually fuck us over, right?”


	12. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elections, wohooo!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry this took so long. I have to wear a brace on my left wrist for a couple of weeks and typing with that is a pain -literally. Two more weeks, and I'll get rid of it! Well, at least I hope so.  
> Besides, I'm still wondering: Whom do you want for Hokage?

Hashirama’s mouth fell open. “That was _today_?!”

Next to him, Madara wasn’t even remotely surprised. Of fucking course Hashirama had forgotten the day he would be elected as Hokage. When Madara had picked him up, the Senju simply followed, happily babbling about the first classes at the Academy that were to start by the beginning of next week all the way to the small stage in the middle of their village. Sine they didn’t want to prefer either, the open Senju area or the more closed off Uchiha compound, Tobirama had suggested the plaza in the middle of their village, since this was the most public place. 

In lack of a proper way to deal with this mess of an older brother, Tobirama chose the facepalm. “I can’t believe you forgot the elections! We settled the date a week ago!” He handed two ballot papers to a married Senju-couple who made way to the polling booth to make their votes, afterwards inserting the neatly folded strips of paper into the ballot box in front of Tobirama and Izuna, who ticked them off on a list that probably was Tobirama’s doing.

“That was Senju Izushi, right?”, he asked, making the albino shake his head once in denial. “Senju Tashigi”, he answered. “Izushi is her sister. They don’t even look alike!”

Izuna rolled his eyes. “Well, maybe they should. They’re twins, after all!”

“Not every clan can consist of a family of black-haired clones”, Tobirama shot back, handing some more papers to three Uchiha. “I prefer to be able to recognise which family I belong to”, one of the black-haired shinobi tittered, making the man next to him nod. The two looked nearly the same, just the hair-cut differed, making Tobirama rise his eyebrows. Twins as well, probably. “Not all siblings can look alike”, he noted, thinking about how he and Hashirama really didn’t have much in common. The first shinobi turned to his comrade, who shrugged. “Can’t say much about that. Sarubo here is just my third-grade cousin, after all.”

With that, the two men and a laughing kunoichi at their side made way to the booths, making Tobirama rub his forehead. Kami, Uchiha and their looks…

“… after all we agreed the clan-heads wouldn’t vote and…” Ah, Hashirama was still attempting to soothe him by vaguely explaining how he had managed to forget the Hokage-elections. Next to him, Madara looked as though he was desperately scrapping together enough willpower to stop himself from strangling the Senju leader. “If you ask me, we should just name Hashirama Hokage and be done with it”, he sighed, regretting his slip straight after when Hashirama instantly abandoned being sorry and went on explaining how the old ways had no place in their village and its leader would be elected by the will of their people.

Groaning, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I hope for your sake you didn’t even think about putting my name on those papers.” Upon that, Izuna frowned. “I would never go behind your back like that, Aniki.”

Madara flinched a little. He should know his little brother would never do anything like that. He was the most faithful person on this planet, and the most important one. Basically accusing him of betrayal was uncalled for. However, before he was able to apologise, Izuna handed Hashirama a ballot paper. The design was simple: The single question whether one wished for Hashirama to take over the duties as future Hokage with two options presented: Yes or No. The Senju frowned. “Madara isn’t even listed as a possibility”, he protested, making his oldest friend hum. “Let’s keep it that way.” “But-” “Time’s almost up, anyway”, Tobirama interrupted, before Hashirama could mess things up again. “Nearly everyone has been here. We’re only missing nine Uchiha and six Senju.”

Izuna nodded. “All of the Elders didn’t show up so far. They probably don’t want to intervene, since- Oh, me and my big mouth.” From across the already quite crowded plaza -after all, the counting would start in less than the quarter of an hour- Itsuko, Sarana and Makoto made way, accompanied by Akiyama and Hibiko. Well, at least they’d be able to cross most of the still missing names, Izuna noted wryly. Makoto looked pretty pissed off, for some reason. But on the other hand, that was her favoured expression whenever it came to politics. Izuna ticked off their names on the list -only ten people hadn’t partaken in the elections, one of them Hatoko who was still in a coma after attempting to fight Madara from his position as clan-leader. He’d heard at least one Senju declare she wouldn’t vote, since it felt unfair to declare only one leader when two had given so much for the village and he suspected others agreed with that. 

Meanwhile, Tobirama was handing out papers to the five Elders, who read them silently, before Makoto huffed. “Tobirama, get me a pencil.”

“There are pencils in the polling booths”, the albino stated, making the old Uchiha bark out a laugh. “You had me and my arthritis come down here to vote for someone. I won’t go hiding in a tent just to please you.”

“The elections are secret and democratic.” Fucking shit, did Uchiha have to debate _everything_? There was a reason the papers weren’t filled out in public! “We can’t have public pressure influence the outcome. That goes for any of you.”

Hibiko rose a brow. “I was the one who slapped you baby-ass into breathing after you refused for a whole two minutes after being born. Now, get that stick out of your pale ass and hand me a pencil. I need to cross out a name here.”

Hashirama frowned. “Cross out a name?”, he parroted, making Hibiko huff, as she simply took Izuna’s pencil when it turned out Tobirama wasn’t going to give in. “If you think I’m going to let _you_ run this village, you’re an even bigger air-head than I thought.” She slapped the paper on one of the tables, before crossing out the name of her clan-head. Then, she simply wrote the Uchiha-leaders name above it, before voting for Yes. She stuffed her paper into the ballot without even bothering to fold it. Hashirama’s mouth fell open, while Izuna and Tobirama shared a look. Well… that was one way to do it. “With you leading the village, we’ll just drown in bills and all that paperwork you love to ignore so much”, she stated. “We need a brain up there.” Madara felt his eye starting to twitch. He could already hear people the first rows whispering… What did that Senju woman think she was doing?!

Itsuko took the pen, making a single mark, stating he agreed with Hashirama becoming Hokage. “The Uchiha can’t have their clan-head run straight onto everything even remotely dangerous and get himself killed within the first week once he leads the village”, he grumbled way too loudly, slapping the paper into Tobirama’s hand. Quite synchronised to Madara, the young Senju’s left eye started twitching, too.

“Whose side are you even on”, Madara demanded, making Itsuko huff. “The clan’s.” Oh, and wasn’t that fantastic. The three others took their votes as well, neither of them bothering to go to the booths. Akiyama voted for his own clan-head, Makoto stated No, and Sarana simply crossed out everything and wrote her cat’s name on top of the paper. So much for that.

It wasn’t even ten minutes until the elections would be officially closed. The five of them took their places behind the large table, as they would supervise the counting. 

Hashirama’s presence was obligatory since he was the one running for Hokage. After some (maybe even some more) convincing from both, his best friend and his little brother, Madara had agreed to attend as well.

Tobirama was the one to read out the ballots, Izuna would count the votes. They just hoped their plan would work at least a little. 

As soon as the remaining minutes had ticked off, Tobirama took the key that was tied to the ballot box, opening the lock at the top. Since the front was made of glass, everyone was able to see how he once stirred the papers, before grabbing one and carefully unfolding it on the table. “Yes”, he declared, loud enough to be heard behind the front rows, before putting the ballot aside, while Izuna marked the vote on his own documents. 

“Yes”, he read the second and third ballot, before taking the fourth. “No”, he declared, followed by another “Yes”. Then, he took out the fifth one, loudly reading “Uchiha Madara”. The Uchiha leader’s eye started to twitch again. That damn Hibiko. Tobirama went on, declaring two “Yes”, before carefully unfolding another ballot. It was marked with neither, Yes or No, instead simply stating “Uchiha Madara!”.

“What”, the Uchiha leader spluttered, taking the ballot out of Tobirama’s fingers even though he couldn’t read it anymore. Someone had written his name all across the paper, the kanji leaving no doubt he or she was quite angry about having to state their opinion in that manner. Izuna and Tobirama glanced at each other. That was what they had hoped for. Since Madara had right out refused to participate in the elections, naming him on the ballots wouldn’t have done any good. However, even if people were only able to vote about Hashirama as future Hokage, they still needed to have the possibility to reject him as such. And if enough of them did so, there was no other way but to propose for Madara as Hokage as well in another run. And while Izuna had hoped some people would vote for his older brother despite him not officially partaking, he couldn’t help the wave of relief overcoming him, as he marked the vote. Madara had so little faith in himself, as well as in the picture the people of Konohagakure had of him.

“That ballot is invalid”, the Uchiha-leader finally snapped. “I don’t partake in the elections for Hokage.”

Izuna suppressed a sigh. Kami, his older brother was such a mess at times. Once he set his mind onto something, he just stuck to it, ignoring each and every sign he was up to a huge load of bull-crap once again.

“Just because Hashirama officially partakes in the elections, that doesn’t mean nobody else is to be voted for”, Tobirama stated, taking another ballot. “The people of Konoha may vote for whomever they wish.”

“And you’re telling me that _now_ ”, Madara hissed, making the younger Senju face his wrath rather unimpressed. “You simply refused to officially partake, but we cannot forbit people voting for you. Everything else would have been unagreeable with our concept of democracy.” And with that, the Senju bastard simply went on reading out ballots, declaring twice a Yes, thrice a No, another Yes, before once again someone had crossed out the Senju leader’s name, stating Madara’s in its place.

“Madara.” A warm hand lowered on his shoulder and the Uchiha didn’t need his eyes to know he was now on the receiving end of one of Hashirama’s warm, gentle expressions. “Why don’t we take a seat while Tobirama and Izuna count? All that stress is poison for your lungs.”

“I’m not on the verge of death, Hashirama.”

“Not anymore”, the Senju argued, making his oldest friend snort. “Can you say that even louder? I’m not certain everyone in the last row heard it.”

“Don’t be like that”, Hashirama gently scolded, placing a glowing hand on Madara’s chest. He knew he probably overreacted; it would be just as sufficient to look after the Uchiha’s condition when the counting was over. But after all that happened, all the pain and struggle, the fear of losing him, he found he just couldn’t. Madara’s health had become so much better, even though Hashirama still failed to negate the cause of his condition. They had gotten rid of the fluids and mucus that had slowly suffocated him, but Hashirama still wasn’t certain what was responsible for such amounts of it. Whatever it was, Madara had been suffering from it since he was a child, probably even before that -he just hadn’t noticed. It felt like a personal failure he was unable to do either, restore Madara’s eyesight and rip out whatever illness stuck to him.

Meanwhile, the shinobi of Konoha watched their two leaders silently. Uchiha Madara’s temper was infamous for a reason; once it got triggered, it certainly proofed the be the best option to simply fuck off as quietly as possible. Now however, the Uchiha leader’s eyes fell halfway shut, as Hashirama seeped medical chakra through his clothes into his no longer aching chest. 

However, when his name was stated yet another time, Hashirama’s influence came to an end. His eye started twitching again and he shoved off the Senju’s gentle hands. What the hell were people thinking?! He couldn’t… He wouldn’t… Just no! And who the hell did even- “I’m sorry for voting for you, Madara-sama!” Fushito. Of course, Fushito. Oh, that rotten bastard! If he wasn’t standing in the middle of a crowd, Madara would burn him to a crisp. “After everything you’ve done for us, I couldn’t just vote for Hashirama-sama! I promise I will make it up to you!” The crowd around the young Uchiha-father started murmuring, some agreeing, some debating, others just glad someone besides Hibiko -who was a Senju!- had openly declared yoting for Madara. It had seemed so unjust. The Uchiha-leader had done so much for their village, protected it from the Kyuubi even, and now he wasn’t even considered as an option for Hokage? Until just a few minutes ago, no one had even known Madara-sama had right out refused to be listed as a possibility. Even those who voted for Hashirama had been at least confused once they had taken a look at the ballot.

“You know, I was going to list you as future team-leader for the academy-graduates”, Madara bellowed, crossing his arms. “I’m going to make sure your team will be the loudest, most annoying one!”

Fushito laughed. His daughter would go to school in the academy once it opened but teaming him up with her would be very unfair to the other ones in his team. Besides, he was always up to a challenge. Anyway, he didn’t regret voting his clan-head for even a second.

During all the fuss, Tobirama and Izuna continued counting. Izuna’s plan seemed to work out so far. Quite contradicting to his older brother’s believes, a lot of people had voted against Hashirama and more than a few openly declared they wished for Madara instead. He wondered if there were Senju amongst them other than Hibiko, who simply saw Hashirama as the wood-head he was.

“Uchiha Madara”, Tobirama declared once more, putting aside the ballot. They were halfway done by now and the younger Senju took out another paper, suppressing a sigh and stating “Nishi.”

“I’d rather vote for my cat than any of you both”, Sarana snarked, sounding not even sorry. “He likes to sneak into peoples’ beds. That’s more than either of you managed so far.”

“I won’t sneak into anyone’s bed”, Hashirama protested, aghast, making the old Uchiha huff. “And that’s the issue you fail to see every day.”

“He wouldn’t even have to sneak”, Itsuko huffed, puffing on his pipe. Next to him, Hibiko snickered, stealing the Uchiha’s pipe. One day, they would get it. And then, she could drop dead, finally.

Hashirama’s head slammed downwards. Why did elders have to be so cruel? The Senju ones were already bad, but it turned out Uchiha could be even worse.

On the next ballot, someone had chosen to vote for both, the Uchiha and Senju leader, starting a debate whether two Hokage were actually an option. However, the murmuring quieted down as soon as Izuna rose from his seat. “The count of votes for Senju Hashirama to become Hokage: fifty-two percent!” The murmuring started again but stopped as soon as Izuna spoke up again. “The count of votes against Senju Hashirama to become Hokage: thirty-one percent!” And finally… “The count of votes for Uchiha Madara to become Hokage: seventeen percent!” Nishi went unnoticed, Sarana thought with a huff. Apparently, votes for cats didn’t count.

Madara breathed out in relief. Even though it was a close call, Hashirama was officially elected by now. Thank Kami that was over and done with. Besides- “No!” He looked up. “What?” 

Hashirama was frowning, an expression too serious for his normal cheerful self now clouding his features. “The election would have been a close call anyhow, but since you refused to officially partake, there’s a high possibility people would have voted differently otherwise. Besides, nearly every fifth voted for you, even though your name wasn’t even listed on the ballot. If we did another run, I’m certain you would be the winner!”

“That doesn’t matter, you empathic asshole”, the Uchiha leader shot back, crossing his arms. “You can’t just call another election if the outcome of the first doesn’t suit your expectations. That’s not how democracy works.”

“Neither is the unequal position of only one clan-head listed on the ballot”, Hashirama countered. “People want you to be Hokage at least as much as they’d vote for me! You saved the village while I was gone, without you Konohagakure wouldn’t have been founded at all! Can’t you see?”

“No!”, Madara yelled back, his temper rising along with his chakra, azure waves of it making his hair billow as he balled his hands into fists, facing the Senju leader. “I can’t _see_! And I probably will never again! I wouldn’t even be able to read the documents placed in front of me! Face it, Hashirama! A blind clan-head is a useless one, and a blind Hokage even more so. If even you were unable to heal my eyes, no one will!”

“Take mine, then!” A heavy silence spread across the crowd as Izuna placed his papers on the desk in front of him and turned around, facing his older brother. “If your failing eyesight is what keeps you from even considering to become Hokage, take mine.”


	13. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eyeballs everywhere.

“I don’t mean both, of course”, Izuna clarified, as soon as his brother opened his mouth. “Just take one. We’ll have Hashirama transplant it, he’ll do fine. After all-” “Absolutely not!” Madara grit his teeth. “Where does this inane idea even come from? I would never-” “You’re suffering!” “I am fine!”, the Uchiha leader bellowed. “Don’t you dare to think that just because I’m blind-” Right on cue, his lungs clenched. They were alright again -or rather as much of that as they would ever be again due to Hashirama’s constant treatment- but still tended to act up whenever he could use it the last. Damn him and his fucked up body. While he coughed violently, Hashirama once more lowered a soothing hand covered in healing chakra on his aching chest.

“I can do well enough with one eye”, Izuna attempted to reason. “Besides, if it were the other way round, I’m fairly certain you would insist to do the same.”

“That’s because _I_ am the older brother”, Madara growled, unceremoniously shoving Hashirama’s palms off of him. “So, being the younger one strips me of any right to care for you?”, Izuna shot back, before his tone gentled once more. “You and I, we’re the only ones left. Do you have any idea how much it hurts? Watching you wearing yourself down, first for the clan, then the village… without you, I’d have no one left!” By now, the younger Uchiha’s voice had risen, if only a little. “Ever since we were children, you always told me how being brothers means we’re going to care for each other! But all the time, you take over the caring part, refusing for anyone to _take_ care of you!” Anyone… but Hashirama. The Senju leader was the very first one in years (after years, after _years_ ) who had been able to truly… take care. Where everyone else (even himself, Izuna begrudgingly admitted) failed, Hashirama just… did. Outright refusing to take a No for an answer, he- “To be honest, I am not certain if even a transplantation would restore Madara’s eye-sight.”- was a backstabbing Senju. Izuna frowned, crossing his arms as he waited for Hashirama to elaborate. “Madara’s visual nerve continues to degenerate, no matter how many times I regrow it or how much chakra I infuse. Even if I implanted a perfectly working eyeball, the failing nerve will block the neuro-signals.”

Madara refrained from laughing in triumph. At least this once, Hashirama was- “However, maybe I could do-” “Nothing and that’s final”, the Uchiha leader snapped but was right out ignored by Hashirama who carefully grasped his face, while bringing his own way too close for comfort. “Wha-“ “Izuna’s and your chakra are extremely similar”, the brunette clan-head uttered. “Not only are you both Uchiha, but brothers… there might be chance-” “No.” “But-” “Like hell I will.” “Would you even consider-” “Fuck off.” “Madara!” “Hashirama!”

While the crowd followed their leaders’ banter with nothing but the uttermost interest -after all, most of them had seen the two go at each other’s throats during countless battles- Tobirama’s blank face was a certain hint he was about to snap someone’s neck. Preferably his brother’s. It would regrow, after all. Probably. Maybe. He would take the risk.

“You could take one of mine, Madara-sama!” The Uchiha leader frowned, facing whomever had called out to him from out of the crowd. “If you don’t want to take Izuna’s… we’re cousins, after all!” Ah. Haruika, that treacherous bastard. 

“Mine could work, too”, Uzumihi offered, making her leader growl. “I won’t take anyone’s eyes, you morons”, he snapped, making his people sigh. Of course… Madara was a true leader, willing to give his very life for the sake of his clan… but right out refused to let others do the same. 

However, when he turned around, Hashirama had already covered his brother’s eye with one hand, green chakra seeping into the visual organ. “It might work”, he muttered. “I’m not certain, though. If his body repels the transplant or the nerve degenerates again, it’s useless.”

“What do you think you’re doing”, the older Uchiha barked, making Izuna look up, Hashirama’s palm sliding off his eye in the process.

“If there’s a chance, I’ll take it”, his brother stated. “My eyes might fit, they might not. But…” He armed himself for another rebuff, before continuing. “If they don’t, I’ll jut take them back. I’ll just…” He shook his head. “I just can’t do _nothing_! And it hurts, seeing you reject everyone trying to help, even me. It hurts way more, than a missing eye ever could. Because I know if it was me, you wouldn’t do but cut out both of your eyes yourself and yet refuse to let me give you even one. I’m your brother, Madara! It’s my duty to protect you just as much as it’s yours to protect me. Because that’s what brothers _do_!”

Madara sighed warily. His shoulders sagged as though the world’s weight was pulling them down -which probably would be the smaller of the two evils for him. “If this doesn’t work, Hashirama will re-implant your eye immediately”, he ordered quietly, making his younger brother gape. “You mean you’re…”

Madara closed his eyes for a moment. Taking this offer went against everything he held dear, every value, every… everything. Taking half of his last brother’s eyesight, for the sole purpose of restoring his own wouldn’t even be worth considering… if Izuna hadn’t made clear the situation as it was made him suffer even worse. His little brother wouldn’t be happy unless he regained his sight -even though the cost was half of his own. He hoped, deeply desperately hoped, this wouldn’t work out. If he remained blind even with his brother’s eye, they could just be done with this whole matter and move on. Izuna would take his eye back and everything would be the way it was meant to. But still… “Not here.” Like hell he would have Hashirama take Izuna’s eye in front of both of their clans. That certainly was not something to be witnessed in public.

Tobirama got up from the chair he had waited in until the discussion had been settled, one way or the other. “Elections are closed!”

 

Sitting in Hashirama’s medical laboratory was strange no matter the circumstances. However, knowing what was coming, Madara felt more like a trapped mouse than anything else. “We don’t have to do this, Izuna. We could always just-” “You agreed to try!” He did. And fucking shit, he regretted it. This wasn’t right at all. “Please, Izuna.” No, he certainly wasn’t above begging at this point, however, his little brother wouldn’t have any of it. “No! We’re doing this, Aniki! If it doesn’t work, I’ll take the eye back and we’ll never talk about it again. But if it does-” Kami, he just wished it wouldn’t.

The room was painstakingly sterile, white floor, white walls, four cabinets filled with neatly arranged utensils, a large bookshelf, two chairs and a table Hashirama just disinfected. All in all, the room was quite large for only keeping such a small amount of furniture. 

Tobirama had tactfully retreated, standing in front of the second shelf with crossed arms. He had offered to leave, however; Izuna had declined. The younger Senju was a part of this, too, and besides they agreed it would be wise to have at least one witness who was uninvolved in the medical process itself. Madara and Izuna had each taken place on one of the seats, facing each other. 

Hashirama placed two petri dishes on the table next to them, one carefully cleaned, the other, larger one filled with a clear liquid. The small scalpel and two tissues probably wouldn’t even be needed but Hashirama had decided to better be safe than sorry. Especially if it considered Uchiha and their eyes. 

“I am ready”, Hashirama declared, carefully pulling on a pair of latex gloves before covering his hands in glowing green chakra. 

“Izuna-” Madara attempted again, only be met with the strangely soothing tone of his younger brother: “If this doesn’t work out, we’ll switch back right after. But we have to try, Aniki.”

“No, we don’t”, Madara murmured quietly. “We don’t have to do anything, we can just-” “All clear”, Izuna interrupted, facing Hashirama. Just this once, he had to take all responsibility out of his brother’s hands, as Madara would rather die than hurt him -the very same he felt about his older brother. Sometimes, you just couldn’t have it all. 

Hashirama carefully covered Madara’s left eye-socket in medical chakra, making sure to numb the pain receptors before starting to work. He knew how harsh this whole matter was on his best friend -he didn’t want to imagine the same scenario including him and Tobirama- but him (and Tobirama, even though he had carefully kept his mind silent, after all this was between the Uchiha brothers) agreed with Izuna on this matter. It was… hard, watching Madara batter himself each and every day, believing himself to not be good enough, no matter how much he sacrificed for their sake. He deserved to be Hokage, so much more than Hashirama did -after all, he hadn’t had been the one to fight until he almost dropped dead for the sake of his people, fought his own clansmen for their village, only to fight the Kyuubi until he permanently lost his eyesight… There was so much more, so very much more in this selfless man that was Madara, but he just refused to see any of it, deeming himself right out worthless. He didn’t deserve it, didn’t deserve any of it. 

Carefully (he didn’t remember ever being so painstakingly cautious in his life) he cut and sealed the blood vessels nurturing the organ with just millimetre-messing chakra blades, separating it from its hold and checking everything over, before slowly taking the eyeball out of its socket. 

“You can even see it”, he murmured, frowning in fascination. “The visual nerve is absolutely degenerated, see, Izuna?” He carefully showed the younger Uchiha the failing tissue. “This is the visual’s nerve-connection”, he showed, pointing at a small string of vessels. “See the black spots? That’s where necrosis has set in. The tissue just keeps degenerating, until the nerve system has rotten away. I’ll clean the remaining tissue in Madara’s eye-socket, we don’t want the degeneration process to set in deeper and spread once we set in your-” “Hashirama”, Izuna interrupted sharply, before the Senju leader could go on. Madara’s face had gotten ashen on the possibility of the degeneration process transferring to his brother’s implanted eye. If that meant Izuna couldn’t even take back his sight in case this wouldn’t work out, there was no way in hell he would- “Right. Sorry”, the Senju leader quickly cut in, carefully setting Madara’s damaged eye in the liquid filled petri dish. Then, he turned to Madara once more, covering his now empty eye-socket in chakra and carefully removing all the rests of damaged material, before turning back to Izuna. He opened his mouth to ask once more if the younger Uchiha was certain about this -after all, there was the possibility this could permanently damage his own eye if the necrosis truly spread, however, was silenced by Izuna’s venomous glare. No more questioning. Got it.

He surrounded Izuna’s eye -the left one, since that was the one he had taken from Madara as well- with medical chakra, before carefully cutting off the visual’s nerve connection before re-sealing it -a step he hadn’t even needed before, considering Madara’s nerve had been completely degenerated- and separating blood-vessels, before loosening the tissue. Then, he took out the eyeball, carefully watching for any injuries, before something minor -and yet so utterly important- occurred to him. This was… this was probably the first time any Uchiha let someone who was not one of their clan willingly not just touch but right out _remove_ their eyes. This was… It suddenly felt like he hadn’t even realised the importance and ground-braking meaning of what he was doing. Unable to supress the need to swallow heavily, his gaze fell to the small organ he was delicately holding. “What is it, Hashirama?”

The Senju leader nearly flinched as Madara’s voice tore through his thoughts. “Nothing”, he denied quickly. “Just a check a quick check-up.”

He turned back to the older Uchiha, carefully renewing the chakra-coat around his eye-socket. Then, he cautiously opened the lid above the hollowed bone and set the transplant into its new place. Carefully, he connected blood-vessels and tissue, before re-growing the visual nerve. “Keep it closed”, he murmured, carefully waiting for any signs of corrosion, as the connection was set. The chakra-flow had already started, perfectly accepting the transplantation. No signs of necrosis (he would have immediately removed the transplant if that was the case; he wouldn’t let Izuna’s eye come to harm). 

“The chakra-flow is even more intense than usual”, he noted, before removing his hands and taking a step back, making the brothers face each other once more. “All right then, Madara. Try to open.” 

Carefully, the Uchiha opened his lids, blinking once at the sheer mass of light that was just intensified by the white walls reflecting it. He could feel his pupils -his one pupil- adjusting and immediately knew he had just given away the outcome. “It’s working!” Izuna beamed at him, his left eye just a shallow space. It made him sick to know he was responsible for his little brother’s cripple. “It’s working”, he confirmed, blinking once more as his sight turned sharp -if a little two-dimensional due to his missing sight on the right side. No use in denying at this point.

“Let’s go through it, then”, Hashirama offered. “Sight-rate?” “Full capacity”, Madara answered, making Hashirama nod and write something down on a small scroll.

“Next step?”, the Senju asked and Madara had three tomoe spinning in his Sharingan. Maybe a little too fast, Hashirama noted. “Full capacity”, the Uchiha leader reported once more. 

“Next step?” Hashirama asked again, this time more careful. Madara and Izuna both had awoken their Mangekyou Sharingan, the very first Uchiha to develop their eyes this far -Madara being the first to pay the ultimate price none knew of before. He should be able to use it, but at this point, all they did was highly hypothetical, even for him. There was no history they could rely on, no experience or reports. Hesitating for a moment, Madara finally reached for the familiar feeling of power beneath his eyes, preparing himself for the pain that would inevitably follow.

The world erupted and Madara heard himself gasp, as he supported himself on the table even though he was already sitting. “Aniki!” Somewhere above, Izuna had leapt out of his seat and taken the single step to his brother’s side. Colour. Movement. Everything moved. _Everything._ Splits of dust glittering in the sunlight. Hashirama’s hair shining in a dozen shades of beautiful umbra. Glass reflecting the artificial light. “Double capacity”, he somehow brought out, feeling the pattern in his -Izuna’s- iris twirl. “Overwhelming.”

Hastily, Hashirama scribbled some more. If even Madara admitted this was too much, it was above anything they had prepared for. He needed- “The pattern!”, Izuna interrupted his train of thought, having sunken to his knees next to his brother, “The pattern changed!”

In a flash, Hashirama was at his side. If there was someone on this earth who was more familiar with Madara’s Mangekyou Sharingan than Izuna, it was himself. And indeed, the younger Uchiha was right. Where Madara’s Mangekyou pattern had consisted of three circles in a round, it now connected to the edges of his iris, complicating the original. Even Tobirama had moved from his spot, now standing next to them, victimising the outcome as well. 

“Let it go if the pain’s too much”, Izuna told him, however; Madara shook his head, slowly seeming to pull himself together again. “No pain”, he whispered. “It doesn’t hurt at all.”

“May I?”, Hashirama asked, half-alarmed, half-amazed and upon the Uchiha’s single nod, carefully grasped his face, surrounding the working eye with medical chakra once more. “The chakra-flow is immense”, he muttered. “But… the connection is way more stable than it was before. As if… everything has re-ordered.” He went back to scribbling on his scroll while Madara shook his head a few times as though to get rid of an unwanted track of thoughts. It was clear he needed some time to process the outcome of their experiment.

“Well”, Izuna finally noted, “I guess the transplantation was a success.” More than that. Way more than that. However, they had to do further research on the matter to be certain. Hashirama nodded, setting down his pen, facing the younger Uchiha. “Could you implant Aniki’s eye? Even if it won’t work, I don’t want to run around with an empty socket. I’d rather not look like an ugly pirate.”

Hashirama froze for a moment, considering, before he nodded. “Give me a moment to clean the tissue”, he requested, switching into a new pair of gloves. “I want to get rid of the necrosis before the transplantation.”

Izuna nodded, attention switching to his brother once more, who had leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes. “I need to get accustomed”, he murmured. “Just… Give me a moment. I’m sorry, Izuna.”

“Stop apologising”, his little brother told him, shaking his head. “I’m just glad it worked. There is no use in berating yourself; I would have Hashirama switch our eyes in your sleep, if you’d refused today.” Madara couldn’t supress a smile, if a little pained. “That sounds way too likely”, he sighed, opening his -Izuna’s- eye once more, trying to take in the sheer impact of it.

“Please take a seat”, Hashirama gently prodded, now done with cleaning the remains of Madara’s eye. He covered Izuna’s empty eye socket with chakra to soothe the tissue, before gently placing the eyeball in this new place. Then, he re-connected the blood-vessels and – “The visual nerve is reacting”, he whispered, pausing his treatment. Madara’s head shot up. “Take it out! I won’t have Izuna’s visual nerves degenerate the way mine did!” 

“It doesn’t degrade”, Hashirama objected. “It’s… building up, even without medical treatment. The connection is already set… no sign of necrosis so far. Let me heal off the remaining blood vessels… Keep your eye closed.” If the nerves re-connected themselves… even Hashirama didn’t know what this would lead to. Izuna’s body was accepting the implant alarmingly well at this rate.

Carefully, he fixed the last remaining issues, even though the younger Uchiha’s body was already working on doing so itself. “Try to open your eye”, he instructed and Izuna obediently blinked once. Then, once more. His pupils dilated before contracting as they got used to the light and finally met his brother’s anxious gaze. “They’re working”, he whispered. “Aniki! They’re working!”

Within the blink of an eye, Madara was by his side, right next to Tobirama, who had gotten even closer due to the last unpredictable events. “How are you feeling? Any pain? Blank spots?”

Izuna shook his head in denial. “Nothing. They’re working… perfectly.”

Hashirama hastily went back to his scroll, writing erratically, while Izuna swallowed once. Then, the black iris coloured red and three tomoe swirled. “Perfectly working”, he breathed out. “Just… Just as my own.”

The four of them carefully glanced at each other, even Tobirama who had kept out of all the process so far. Then, Izuna’s face scrunched in determination, as the three tomoe of his newly implanted eye started swirling once more, re-connecting into the pattern that defined his Mangekyou-Sharingan. 

For a single moment, nothing happened. Then, the pattern changed, the straight circle around the iris re-forming into three smaller ones, complicating the original. Izuna’s hand flinched to his face and his eyes widened, as he staggered back in his seat. 

“Kami…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any occuring mistakes. It's past 1 am, I'm deadly tired, but this chapter took long enough already.
> 
> So… I finally got rid of my brace. Hooray!  
> But seriously. There’s one thing with Uchiha I’ll never get in canon. Everyone knows how their Mangekyou Sharingan is awoken and it’s even stated the most powerful Uchiha would kill their best friends to get it. And it’s known you can get the Eternal Mangekyou Sharingan by implanting yourself another Uchiha’s Mangekyou Sharingan. And yet NOBODY does, because of plot-holes around Grand Canyon Size. Seriously. This is like… the most stupid thing ever. How about Random Uchiha A goes to Random Uchiha B and says “Hey you know how we’re both going blind? How about we switch eyes and have TWO sets of Eternal Mangekyou Sharingan?” Even if they weren’t as closely related as Madara and Izuna or Itachi and Sasuke (and thus, the transplantation wouldn’t work out quite as well), it would still be kinda better than going blind.  
> But yeah, that’s just me running around using logic ‘n shit.


	14. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guess who finally becomes Hokage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who’s finally back with good news and bad news.  
> The good news: I got a now job. The bad news: I got a new job. Since it starts at 8am, my favourite creative writing time between 11pm and 1am is cancelled. Seems I need to re-schedule my life… ugh.  
> Anyway: We’re finally getting a Hokage! I’ve been pondering for weeks (literally) how to solve this and finally got a solution. I really hope you’ll like it.  
> That you all SO much for all of your awesome comments! You guys really keep me going!

“Do the other!” Izuna’s voice cut the silence, making Madara frown. “I don’t think that’s a good idea”, he cautioned. “We don’t know anything about this, Izuna. We have no idea about potential side-effects or the long-term-” “Do you feel like there’ll be any?”, his little brother interrupted, making the older Uchiha pause, before frowning. “No”, he realised hesitatingly. Indeed, the transplant felt impossible perfect, even more than his actual eyes ever had. His own remaining one felt strange to him, suddenly. Izuna nodded upon his older brother’s answer, making it obvious he wouldn’t take a No for an answer. “Neither do I”, he simply agreed. Still…

“You’ll tell me immediately, if something feels off”, Madara commanded, glaring at his brother. And even though Uchiha Madara’s glares were nothing easily brushed off -blind or not- Izuna just sighed. “Promise. Next one, Hashirama!”

The Senju laughed sheepishly. “I need a minute here, Izuna.” While his older brother was still scribbling furiously on his scroll, Tobirama replaced the liquid that had kept Madara’s eye with new one, before throwing away the two used pairs of gloves. Then, he took his place at the side-line once more, silently witnessing the act. 

Finally done, Hashirama meanwhile took a new pair of latex gloves, before switching his attention back to his best friend. Carefully removing Madara’s remaining own eye, he set it in the liquid filled petri dish, cautious to mirror his previous steps as closely as possible. Then, he transplanted Izuna’s eye in the freed spot, this time waiting a moment before starting to infuse chakra. “The connection sets in by itself”, he whispered in awe. “It takes longer and doesn’t heal off as clean, but your chakra-system is already adjusting.” He helped the nerves connect more precisely, adjusted some last blood-vessels and stepped back. Madara opened his eyes, taking a few seconds to adjust himself to the new sensation. First switching to his Sharingan, before letting the Mangekyou-pattern form once more. This time it was no less intense just because he knew what was coming. If it came to the Sharingan and the Mangekyou Sharingan, two halves equalled so much more than the number of their pieces. The power of two eyes combined was way more intense than each one simply added; Sharingan -no matter how far evolved- always empowered each other. He took a deep breath, before slowly building up chakra as far as the small room allowed. Pieces of skeleton formed around him, surrounding the two sets of siblings, as well as the table in order to not knock it over. He wouldn’t be able to build up his Susano’o any farther without utterly wracking havoc and destroying the nearest wall, however; this was enough. No pain… No raging fire burning away his insides. He closed his eyes, devouring the sensation. The absence of agony wasting away his body, the pure feeling of ultimate power. As it should be. As it was meant to be. He forcefully kept his chakra-construct from building up further, before making it finally falter. If even this, the ultimate power of their eyes, didn’t corrode them... nothing would.

Hashirama mourned the loss of chakra around them as soon as Madara had let his Susano’o vanish. As strange as being entirely surrounded by another’s chakra felt… Hashirama ceased the frown that was beginning to form on his forehead. He knew people tended to describe Madara’s chakra as foul, suffocating and boiling hot, but to him it had never felt that way. Instead, all he felt was warmth, comfort and… affection? Yes, of course, he would. Madara was his best friend after all. Even though their friendship had been harsh at (most) times, the Uchiha was still the one person besides Tobirama who entirely understood him, knew him in a way no one else in his clan did. So, why was he still feeling- “-rama!” “Huh?” The older Senju looked up, meeting the equally annoyed gazes of his brother and best friend. “I told you twice now, it’s fine! No corrosion, no pain, nothing. You can switch Izuna’s now.”

“Right.” Hashirama blinked once, before changing his gloves again, carefully treating the younger Uchiha’s eye-socket and transplanting Madara’s eye afterwards, connecting the vessels and nerves. “All done”, he declared, stepping back as Izuna opened his eyes. Unlike his older brother, he refrained from summoning his Susano’o. Madara had way more practise in its use -even though he had never truly summoned the whole avatar before his clash with the Kyuubi- and Izuna really didn’t want to trash the room.

“Mind if I check on you tomorrow, Izuna? Madara, I’d like to take a look at your lungs in the evening, if you don’t mind.” Hashirama went back to his scroll again. “I’d also like to run some tests, if that’s alright with you. We could-” “Anija”, Tobirama interrupted his older brother, knowing how this would work out if he didn’t, “Before you get ahead of yourself: We still need to name a Hokage -and we need to do so before the Yamanaka join in five days.”

“Oh, shit.” Hashirama groaned. “Can’t we do this tomorrow? There’s still enough time to-” “No!”, his little brother barked, a vein on his temple twitching. “We need to figure this out today! The ceremony is tomorrow, after all, and things need to be over before the other clans join.”

The Senju leader turned to Madara, who had gotten up from his seat and stood next to him, arms crossed. “No”, the raven told him, before he had even opened his mouth. “Madara! There’s no reason for you to not even _consider_ becoming Hokage!” Hashirama crossed his arms as well, mirroring his best friend’s stubborn stance. “Your eyesight is restored -even more so-, your lungs are clear, you are nearly healthy. I’ll just have to take a look at your lungs every few days to get rid of any occurring mucus. Just-” “No, Hashirama.” The Uchiha huffed. “You came up with that Hokage-Bullshit, you deal with it! I won’t sacrifice any of my remaining sanity to deal with even more paperwork. And just because I regained my eyesight -which doesn’t mean it’s permanent, mind you- I won’t let you step back from this.”

“But Madara-” “You’re no boss of mine”, the Uchiha leader barked, turning around. “So, fuck off, Hashirama.” With that, he stormed off, leaving behind his pouting best friend.

“Well”, Izuna noted, supressing a sigh, “So much for making Aniki reconsider.” Why did he have to be so freakishly stubborn about this? First his conviction about the missing trust of Konoha’s people. Then, his missing sight. Now, his outright refusal. At this point, Izuna was quite certain that whatever further reason they brought forth would simply be declined. Madara didn’t deem himself either worthy or fit for officially leading the village and if his thick-headed older brother set his mind onto something, getting him off track might proof to be nothing short of impossible.

Hashirama simply stared after his best friend. “No boss of yours, eh?”

 

At exactly noon the day after, the people of their village had once more gathered on the same plaza they already had after the (quite frustrating) elections-procedure yesterday. Except this time, the five elders had taken place on the small stage next to their clan-leaders and co-leaders. None of them knew the outcome of yesterday’s mess -referring to both, the Hokage elections and Izuna’s demand considering his brother’s blindness. 

Hashirama stepped forth, eyes meeting the silent crowd in front of him. “First things first”, he began, grateful for the rather pleasing start of his speech, “I am glad to inform you; Izuna’s noble offer was not wasted. Madara’s sight has been fully restored -and to our utter surprise, Izuna’s as well after we implanted his brother’s eyes.” A murmur spread across the crowd, making the Senju raise his hand soothingly. “We need to figure out the genetic details making this possible, however; this is not why we have gathered once more today. I simply didn’t want you to worry more than necessary.” 

Hashirama took another breath, knowing what was coming. “With his eyesight fully restored, there is nothing keeping Madara from taking over the duties as Hokage-” “Eat a dick, Hashirama!”, the Uchiha leader spat, looking as though he forcefully refrained from knocking his best friend all across Fire-Country with a baseball-bat. Hashirama’s sleeves started burning and with a silent sigh, he put out the licking flames before his robe was utterly ruined. “- If he wished to”, the Senju continued as though nothing had happened. “However, as this is not the case and the village is in dire need of an official leader…” He bowed humbly, long locks hiding his face, “It would be my honour to follow the outcome of yesterday’s elections and take over the duty and pleasure of being the First Hokage of our village… If you will have me.”

For a few moments dragging far too long, nothing happened. Hashirama remained in his place, deeply bowed in front of his people, waiting for their final verdict. 

The cheering started slow, maybe too much so. Then, it spread across the crowd, building and gaining strength, until the people of Konoha, Senju and Uchiha both, called out in approval of the Senju leader… no, the village leader. Screams of joy, of love, of comfort for their Shoudaime Hokage, the First Shadow of Fire. 

All the while, Hashirama didn’t move an inch, still bowing as deeply as possible to the people of Konoha, to his people… _their_ people. Madara’s and his. Cheering for a brighter future, a future in unity. As they had always dreamed they one day would.

Behind him, Itsuko and Makoto stepped closer, carrying a heavy white mantle they lowered on his shoulders. Akiyama and Serana finally set the large red headwear on his hair, before Hibiko raised her voice, ever strong despite her old age of nearly ninety winters: “Senju… Uchiha. People of Konohagakure! United we stand, united we are stronger than ever. And now, we finally have elected a leader of our new village, a leader for our united strength. So, cheer, people of Konoha! Cheer and scream in joy, for our future is bright, now more than ever!”

And scream they did.

And cheer they did.

Deafening shouts for their Shoudaime, for the one that would lead them from now, who would form this new age, this new era.

Finally, Hashirama raised, standing tall as he watched the crowd below him. A nearly unbidden smile tugged on the corners of his face. “When I was just a child, I met that strange boy at the Nagishawa-river.” He didn’t even hear the murmuring that was spreading amongst the crowd at those words. Never their two leaders had talked about how they met, it was merely known they had to have at some point. Everything more than this was mere rumours, making this the first confession about their shared history. Unaware, the new Hokage smiled a little wider as the mental image of a wild-haired boy in a too large yukata angrily gesticulated at him for whatever reason occurred to him this time. “We used to dream… that wild, raven-haired boy and me. About a place we could protect our little brothers in… and it took years and years and now… Now, we did it.” Hashirama’s smile got even wider as he continued. “He wanted me to take over the mantle as the village’s leader, thus I did. However; I can’t do this alone. I never could. When we created this position, three Advisors were meant to be by its side, since not even the Hokage should make important decisions on his own. As such, I am in desperate need of someone by my side. And I want that one to be the boy I dreamed with, the boy I sparred with, the man I fought and created a village with.” His smile got even wider and he turned around a little. “What do you think, Madara?”

“I think you’re a moron”, the Uchiha leader shot back mercilessly, arms crossed. However, Hashirama merely chucked. “Then, I shall be your moron”, he teased, not even flinching at the insult. “If you will have me.”

Madara raised one of his fine eyebrows as he faced the new Hokage in his flashing robes. “If that’s your idea of a formal dress-code, you’ll need all the help you can get”, he informed his best friend, whose smile transformed into one of his full-flagged grins, before he pulled the Uchiha leader into a bone-crushing hug, making him splutter in a way ranging somewhere between angry and embarrassed. The Senju was nearly a full head taller than him (even though his mountain of hair nearly made up for that) and Madara’s attempts to free himself from his best friend’s broad chest were rather unsuccessful. “You’re embarrassing as fuck! Hashirama! You hear me, you big buffoon? Let me go or I swear, I’ll burn your stupid Bonsai down!” Unfortunately, Hashirama didn’t have any fucks left to give, at least not if it was about caring for dignity, least of all his own. 

When the Senju leader finally stepped back, he was smiling widely at the raven. “Then, I won’t need anyone else”, he declared.

“Wha- Oh, no, no, no. That’s not what we’re doing, Hashirama. The idea was three advisors, not just whatever stupid ideas your flowery brain comes up with! I won’t-” “You already said yes”, Hashirama interrupted, sighing internally. It seemed, he had to pull _that_ card, if he couldn’t convince his best friend. However, he just _couldn‘t_ do this alone, never had. He needed Madara, needed him by his side, as he had from the very beginning. And he had wanted for Madara to be at the top, had wanted him to lead the village. However, as usual things hadn’t worked out the way he had intended. His best friend right out refused to be even considered as a possibility for the village leader. However, Hashirama wouldn’t let him get out of _this_ , too. And he wouldn’t step back now. “Tobirama and Izuna -at the very least one of them- will be needed in the village, whenever we can’t stay here. And I need you, Madara. We both know I’m no good with negotiations and I happen to be quite naïve way too often. You’re the one without whom this village wouldn’t even exist! And I need you by my side to run it!”

“You need _someone_ by your side, to keep you from chasing rainbows. Tobirama will do just fine, if you insist on-” “I need _you!_ ” Hashirama barely refrained from crying out in despair. How didn’t he see? How was the Uchiha with his praised Sharingan so very blind he didn’t see how much Hashirama depended on him? It seemed everyone else did, except for the one who mattered most.

“You know what? Go fuck yourself! You’re no Boss of mine!” 

“But I am.”

Madara stopped dead in his metaphorical tracks, lips halfway parted in another argument. It was almost comical as the usually so composed Uchiha’s eyes widened upon the realisation that yes, indeed Hashirama as the village’s leader and Hokage was exactly that: His Boss. The Uchiha grit his teeth, awaiting the inevitable: Hashirama’s order telling him to take his new position, as was his right as Hokage of their village. His eyes hardened, however; the only thing they met was the Senju leader’s soft smile. “So… What say you, Madara? Are you willing to stay by my side -as your Hokage’s advisor and my best friend? Because they both need you, now more than ever.”

The raven blinked. “You’re one sappy bastard”, he muttered, refusing to meet the Shoudaime’s gentle eyes. “Fine. But only because I owe you for saving my life. And Izuna’s eyes.”

Hashirama stepped forth once more, and this time his hug was gentler than the last. He closed his eyes as he buried his face in long, raven locks, softer than they had any right to be. They smelled like smouldering ashes of a warming fire. Of comfort… and home.

 

Out of the shadows at the plaza’s opposite side, a darkly clothed figure watched closely as the two clan-leaders hugged each other (well, to be precise only one of them actually took an active part in that; the Uchiha simply let him). 

He had set his hopes on that particular Uchiha, ever since the boy had become clan-head. He had managed to awake his Mangekyou Sharingan; the first one ever since the ancient ages. Back then, things certainly hadn’t turned out the way they were intended. Indra didn’t win his final fight against Ashura; in fact, the outcome had been the exact opposite. Which would have been half as bad if that stupid boy would have taken his brother’s precious eyes instead of burning them along with the rest of his battered remains. That blasted younger son had ruined everything not once, but twice! 

He could count himself lucky Indra had sired offspring, otherwise the truth-seeing eyes and their power would have been lost for all eternity, making it impossible to save Mother from her prison!

But still. Without being fully awoken, even the Sharingan was useless and not a single Uchiha had managed to even evolve their eyes to a complete Mangekyou Sharingan.

At least not until a few years ago when he felt their awakening power calling to him from not one, but two clan-members. However; he had nearly given up hope on those as well. The older one was too sick; he would die long before he even stood a chance of awakening the Rinnegan even if he decided to intervene directly. And the younger boy simply wasn’t strong enough.

Thus, he had already condemned himself to another indefinite period of waiting… until he had heard rumours about Senju and Uchiha joining forces.

It seemed, not only had the older boy -the one he had set his hopes into- survived but also gained the ultimate stage of the Sharingan! How very unexpected… how very convenient. And even more so, once he finally recognised the chakra he possessed. Indra’s incarnation certainly had been a surprise -a very welcome one, that is. Once he realised whose chakra circled in the raven-haired man, recognising the other one wasn’t too difficult. How very convenient once more to have Ashura right in front of him, too… except it now turned out it wasn’t.

If was obvious, this Ashura was way more protective of his Indra, than the original one ever was. And worse, the affection seemed mutual, since the current Indra hadn’t even pushed the other man off him. Instead, he seemed to tighten the hug that had been forced upon him.

It would be no use attempting to steal Indra’s eyes and the other Uchiha’s Eternal Mangekyou Sharingan just wouldn’t suffice. He wasn’t one for an open fight and very aware these two needed to be handled with caution. However; he wouldn’t step back now. He finally had found the ultimate eyes he had been after for ages! And on top of that, Ashura’s chakra was right in front of him, too, as well. He would have a busy schedule, it seemed.

Soundlessly, Zetsu reunited with the shadows he had emerged from.


	15. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cultural differences.  
> Also, a lot of other differences.

Side by side, the Hokage and his (only) advisor walked through their village. The Yamanaka had joined just yesterday, moved into the houses Hashirama had prepared beforehand, following the agreements they had made during their meetings and negotiations. Since the Yamanaka clan didn’t want any kind of celebration following their joining, the whole affair had gone rather quietly; merely the leaders and co-leaders of the Uchiha and Senju had welcomed the clan. The Yamanaka-compound was more similar to the Senju’s, though not as largely sprawled (but let’s be honest, spreading out farther than those grass-lovers would be really difficult unless one decided to live as a hermit in the middle of the fucking forest). 

Hashirama knocked twice on the simple door of the clanhead’s house, patiently waiting until it was opened. “A beautiful day, isn’t it?”, he asked, smiling brightly and making his best friend roll his eyes. “Stop making Smalltalk, Hashirama. Besides, everyday is beautiful if one asks your sun-kissed ass.”

“Some more than others”, the Senju argued laughing, making Madara sigh exasperated. “Sometimes I really wonder if there’s a brain inside that thick skull of yours or just a large, wobbly glob.” “Technically-” “Oh, no, we’re not having _that_ conversation.” “But _you_ said-” The door opened and instead of arguing further, Hashirama smiled at the Yamanaka-clanhead who stood in the entry. “Ichigo-san. Good morning! How was your first night with us?”

The Yamanaka clanhead was young, however; neither Madara nor Hashirama should be the ones talking. Yamanaka Ichigo was a rather clean man, his hair so blonde it seemed almost bleached. His eyes were of a sharp icy-blue, seeming to pierce straight through them. He was just a few years older than them, maybe two or three however already considered a genius -which meant something by Yamanaka-standards. Unlike Madara or Hashirama, he wasn’t known for his capabilities in battle; however, his way of dealing with his opponents’ sanity tended to be… effective, to name it nicely.

The Yamanaka-leader carefully observed the two men for a moment. Uchiha and Senju had been arch-enemies; oceans of blood separating them for centuries. When rumour had spread about the two most powerful clans in the Land of Fire joining, most of the other clans didn’t even believe them, too impossible was even the idea. However; when rumours turned out to be true, Ichigo soon realised what joining their union could mean: The Yamanaka had confederated with neither, Senju nor Uchiha, meaning there was no bad blood with the other clan. Joining with the unity of both would undoubtly bring a whole new level of safety, stability and -hopefully- peace.

“Some of us are still weary, however; we all happen to be relieved we were able to finally join Konohagakure. We wish to thank you again for preparing all of this.”

Hashirama laughed -maybe a little sheepishly. “I just grew the houses. You should rather thank Madara, Tobirama and Izuna, they’re-” “You’re the Hokage, of course you’re responsible”, the Uchiha leader huffed, throwing the Senju a sour glance that easily overpowered Ichigo’s stare- not that Hashirama seemed to notice that. “But you and Tobirama-” “No.” “I just wanted to clarify that-” “No!” “Madara!” “Fuck you!”

A small cloud slammed onto Hashirama’s head, raining sadly above him, as the Senju leader sniffed theatrically. “I just think it’s thanks to you everything went so smooth.”

Madara rolled his eyes. “Stop being pathetic, you ninny. I can’t believe I even know you.”

Ichigo carefully watched the two clan-leaders. During their negotiations, it had already been obvious Hashirama heavily relied on his younger brother and the Uchiha clanhead (which had come as a big surprise considering their clans’ blood-drenched history) however, watching these two interact this… _intimate_ was strange, to say at least. They seemed to be close in a way two leaders of clans fighting to the death not even half a year ago should never truly be. “Nonetheless, we are grateful-” “ _Ashura!_ ”

The three clanleaders flinched as the voice tore through their eardrums. It seemed to echo through the village, shake the trees, and Madara cast out his senses, instantly scanning the environment for chakra. “That’s not the Kyuubi”, Hashirama asserted, instantly turning to Madara who had already determined directions. 

“North-East, approaching fast”, he exclaimed. Hashirama turned around, facing a few Yamanaka who had left their houses upon the bone-wrecking scream. “Tell the others to stay behind. We’ll take care of this. Madara!” Without even bothering to reply, the Uchiha jumped off like a crossbow being fired, Hashirama right after him… as well as Ichigo.

“Isn’t Hokage-sama supposed to stay in the village”, Madara mocked, however, Hashirama merely frowned. He would never let Madara face a Bijuu alone -and it had to be, for what else could it- and besides… “That was my name.” The Uchiha huffed. “That isn’t your name.”

“It certainly accords with the Kyuubi’s story”, Hashirama argued. Half a step behind them, Ichigo frowned. He had no idea what these two were up to. Facing a Bijuu -even though he was no sensor, the sheer amount of chakra they were racing towards was obvious- was a bad idea at any given day; at most it was a suicidal one. However… he wasn’t clanhead for nothing. It was his duty now, to help their new allies with the best of his abilities. And his duty as their leader to protect the Yamanaka.

For a few minutes, the three shinobi silently darted forward, following Madara who charged right to the immense source of charka barrelling in their direction. “Ichigo-san.” Hashirama was the one to speak first. “We will most likely encounter a Bijuu, though I don’t know which one -except it won’t be the Nine-Tails. Do _not_ attack or draw your weapons, unless Madara or I do so first.”

“Understood.” Not that he was too keen on facing a Tailed Beast at all. The murderous giants had no business with either, shinobi or civilians and despised humans in general. However, he didn’t get to ponder too much about why they were seeking one of them out, since they had gotten closer to the raging mass of charka charging in their direction. The Bijuu had destroyed everything in its path, bursting through the forest and had burned down the trees in its way. Hashirama nodded respectfully once they stopped in front of its towering, flaming form. “Two-Tails.”

“Ashura?” The Bijuu’s voice wavered as it echoed in the morning air and the enormous two-tailed cat bowed down to face the Senju leader. “It is you… and yet it is not.” The giant head lowered a little to be able to face the three shinobi better, uprooting a few trees in the process. “Do you remember me, Ashura? Do you remember my name?” It sounded so very hopeful yet at the same time expecting disappointment.

Hashirama shook his head. “I am not Ashura, as Madara is not Indra. We never even heard those names before Madara’s fight with the Kyuubi. I am sorry to disappoint you, Nibi.”

“You used to be my favourite brother.” The Bijuu’s words were quiet but somehow still booming. “I loved you best, more than anyone else of us. And when Kurama told me he found you… that after millennia, he found our brothers by some cruel twist of fate, I just couldn’t sit back and wait. And now, it seems you cannot even remember my name.”

“So…” Hashirama guessed, “You consider yourself our brother, as well?”

The Two-Tails blinked. “Brother? No. I am your sister, Ashura”, it -she- corrected, making Hashirama blink. “You’re a _girl?_ ”

The Nibi blinked once, too. “How does it matter?”, she asked and Hashirama eagerly opened his mouth to ask -Weren’t Tailed Beasts genderless? After all, they hadn’t been born naturally. Did that mean they could procreate? How about the other seven beasts they hadn’t met yet?- however; Madara’s heel crushed his toes rather painfully.

“What was that for”, he whined, making the Uchiha roll his eyes. “Because you’re a fucking idiot, that’s why”, he supplied, making his best friend pout. 

“Kurama told me you created a village… Who leads it?”, the Nibi finally asked, not showing any of her inner turmoil upon Hashirama’s answer: “I do.” It seemed, history was bound be repeat once more, she painfully realised. Hopefully, Ashura didn’t have to kill his older brother this time; maybe he would see reason and cease- “Because Madara didn’t want to.”

The Two-Tails froze, burning eyes slowly meeting the Uchiha’s. “You did not… want to lead the village and the people?”, it echoed, making Madara cross his arms. “Why should I? My sanity barely hangs on a string as it is. I really don’t need even more shit piled on the top, even though it took long enough to hammer that into Hashirama’s thick skull.”

Maybe… Just maybe… the future wasn’t set in stone, after all, the Nibi thought, feeling a small bud of hope blooming in her chest. “What about this one”, she asked, attention switching to the Yamanaka clanhead who watched the whole affair sharply from the side line, not missing a single word. 

“Ichigo-san leads the Yamanaka-clan”, Hashirama explained. “They joined our village just yesterday. Isn’t it great?” He beamed at the giant cat, whose sharp gaze rested on the blonde shinobi for a moment more, before switching back to the Senju leader. “I have no interest in human business, let alone in their clans. However; if you are happy about this man joining you, then I shall be as well, brother.”

Hashirama’s face fell a little. No interest, huh? “Then I guess you wouldn’t want to join, either?”, he asked, disappointment clearly visible on his face. “I already asked the Kyuu- Kurama, I mean. We built the village to ensure peace and end the fights. I know you d-argh!”

With a single kick, Madara had sent his best friend flying into a bunch of trees, snapping them as the Senju crashed into the wood of another one, before finally coming to a stop. “We already talked about this, you moron! It’s not just us anymore! You can’t just ask _another_ Bijuu to join our village, no matter how much you want to. You’re responsible for the Yamanaka now, as well! And it’s only a matter of time until the Sarutobi are going to join, as well. Just because _I_ agree with your sappy ass doesn’t mean everyone else does, as well”, he barked, crossing his arms. Hashirama was so very focussed on peace, spreading love and overcoming old hatred, he tended to forget not everyone was as forgiving or easy-going as him.

“You broke my ulna”, the Shoudaime whined, pouting, as he got out of the splintered wood around him. He regrew the broken trees (stupid plant-lover he was), before joining the Uchiha leader once more, still pouting, as he single-handedly straightened the broken bone, healing it without even so much as a blink.

“I’d much rather break your skull sometimes”, the raven shout back mercilessly, making his Kage’s head drop as if hit with a massive rock from above. “It’s always the same with you”, he theatrically sniffed. “I should’ve made you Hokage.”

“And I should’ve let you drown in the Nagishawa-river.” 

“We were kids”, Hashirama cried. “Are you never going to let me down on that?”

Meanwhile, Ichigo’s observant eyes didn’t miss a single beat as he saw the rumours going about in the shinobi-clans in the Land of Fire confirmed. The Senju and Uchiha clanhead did indeed meet as children… however, that by far didn’t explain the rest of the conversation he had been -was still- witnessing.

The Nibi finally spoke up, interrupting her brothers’ bickering. “I am glad the millennia haven’t changed you… Ashura. I always loved you best for your kind heart. Power never meant much to you, your only wish to obtain strength was rooted in your desire to protect your loved ones.” She was quiet for a moment, pondering about her next words. “I can’t accept your offer, though. Not yet. It is too soon. All that hatred, all the bad blood between me… between the nine of us… and the human race is still boiling and I fear I would make you unhappy in long terms by agreeing. Give me some time, brother, to think about all of this… And maybe, I will agree, if the time is right.”

Hashirama sighed. He really couldn’t expect more; it was common knowledge the Tailed Beasts deeply detested the human race. But… “You’re always welcome to visit.”

“And visit I will”, Matatabi promised. “Just as Kurama will… And the others. I know, because we loved you.”

 

“You do realise you’re damn lucky the Yamanaka don’t insist on leaving the village after this?”, Madara asked, taking a bite of his dango. The Hokage and his advisor had retreated to the Senju’s house (due to the fact that Tobirama and Izuna were up to something in the Uchiha clanheads’ house and that Hashirama had forgotten to water his Bonsai).

The Senju smiled. “I don’t know what all that fuss is about”, he insisted, sipping on his tea. Madara huffed, leaning back on his comfy chair in Hashirama’s living room. His mane of hair clung to his face, still dripping wet after the shower he had taken. “I know you’re basically the two-legged embodiment of peace and harmony” and ultimate battle power “But even you have to realise living next-door with a Bijuu might make people uncomfortable. Not everyone out there lives on peace instead of oxygen.”

Hashirama sighed, watching his friend from the other end of the small side table. With his hair clinging to his face and shoulders, clad in a simple Yukata for sleeping (he had no intention to go back to the house Hashirama had recently rebuilt and interrupt whatever their little brothers were up to again; these two together were the plaque) and barefooted, Madara seemed nearly… fragile. Of course, there had never been even an ounce of fat on his body, however; even though his health had much improved, Madara didn’t gain even close the muscle-mass adorning the Senju’s war-shaped body, nor had he reached the weight Hashirama would wish. Even though Madara had always been less of a bulky fighter aimed for pure strength and more of a slender, agile one, Hashirama’s medical side couldn’t ignore the fact he was still missing a few pounds of mass. 

“What are you staring at, weirdo”, the Uchiha snapped half-heartedly, taking the last bite of his dessert and pondering about whether getting another one was worth the walk to the kitchen.

“You’re still underweight”, Hashirama hummed, carefully watching the Uchiha’s reaction. However, instead of getting angry, he merely shrugged. “Not much I can do about that”, he noted. “I can’t remember ever feeling better. My lungs are fine, my eyes are fully functioning -way above that, actually. I doubt there’ll be any further improvement.” He chuckled slightly and Hashirama enjoyed the rare sound. “Not even a year ago, I was pretty much one step away from death. Things have been improving, wouldn’t you agree?”

Hashirama smiled once more, watching his friend. For some reason he was in great mood after meeting the Two-Tails -and Hashirama’s clumsy attempts at explanation towards Ichigo-san afterwards. Finally having decided another dango wasn’t worth walking five steps, Madara reached out for a mochi instead, long fingers picking out the largest one.

“How about some sparring tomorrow afternoon”, Madara suggested comfortably. “It’s been a while.” He was right, Hashirama noticed. The last time they‘d sparred had been before the Nine-Tails attacked their village… and aside from each other, there was no shinobi they could meet heads-on in either, battle or training.

“Let me check you up, first”, Hashirama asked, emptying his cup. Madara, well aware the Senju wouldn’t give up on that, popped the last piece of mochi in his mouth, before leaning back and closing his eyes. Hashirama got up, lowering one hand on Madara’s chest. He still hadn’t found a way to stop the attaching mucus, however; by now he was fairly certain it was rooted in the erroneous regulation within the intercellular liquid exchange he had noted. But there was no way he would risk worsening Madara’s condition while attempting to fix it; until he had fully understood the ailment and worked out a way to fully treat its cause, nullifying the damage done by it had to be good enough. 

Madara’ chest heaved in a dry cough and he lowered his other palm soothingly onto the tender skin to ease the reflex. Within a moment, the Uchiha relaxed again, eyes closed, and Hashirama once more felt the amazement upon this ultimate trust wash over him. There was nothing keeping him from slitting his throat, breaking his neck or suffocate him -just to name three out of the insane amount of possibilities to end a life. All there was between Madara and his death was his unwavering trust in Hashirama.

While his medical chakra seeped into Madara’s chest, the Uchiha slouched a little farther in his chair. Strands of wet black hair brushed against his arm, the wetness highlighting the tint of midnight blue. His lashes cast long shadows on his pale skin and-

 

With a bone-shattering crash, Hashirama slammed into the last house of the street. At least he hadn’t damaged any other homes, he dimly noted. Well, aside from his own, that is. His shoulder was a little dislocated, too. 

Slowly, he got up, making his way out of the ruined walls back to the street. Absently, he set his arm back into position. He’d have to apologise to Hitami, she lived here, after all… at least she wasn’t at home right now.

“Hashirama.” Ah. Hibiko. The old woman was standing at the middle of the street he had just forcefully crossed, next to her Makoto and Akiyama who both looked rather unimpressed by what they had just witnessed. “Good evening, Hibiko-san.”

“Would you care to explain why you just nearly teared down Hitami’s home after flying across the street?”

Oh. Yes. He blinked. 

“I kissed Madara.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smoochy Smoochy


	16. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hahirama just doesn't get it.

“You fucking son of a crack-snorting whore!”

“Madara, I-”

“Braindead, cock-eating treefucker!”

“Ma-”

“Useless shitpiece of backwards-evolution!”

While Hashirama automatically took a step back, he couldn’t help but be impressed by Madara’s verbal creativity. 

The Uchiha had just gotten out of his house (exiting through the hole Hashirama had pound into the wall), stalking straight at his Hokage, without apparently noticing the elders in front of him. Cheeks flushed, clad in a simple black yukata underlining his pale skin illuminated by moonlight, contrasting the rosy hint on his face, onyx eyes blasting… Hashirama blinked, mouth opening halfway. “You’re beautiful.”

The raven stilled, his whole body going rigid, making Hashirama open his mouth once more, attempting to calm his best friend; he just needed a moment to- Out of thin air, a giant arm manifested in front of him, as the Uchiha leader’s Susano’o backhanded him, hurtling him all the way across their village, before he smashed into the mountain their people had already started craving his face into.

With its Master making his way across the village, right at the Hokage, Madara’s partway formed battle construct dissolved. “I’m going to rip your fucking cock right off and shove it up your ass, you motherfucking-” 

Quickly, Nanami covered her daughter’s ears, as her clanhead made his way across the rooftops above them. That wasn’t something a six-year old’s ears should hear, she thought, watching as her clanhead continued his path over the rooftops of their village. The two of them had always had a strangely intimidate relationship, ever since Konoha had been created… and it had just gotten more intense over time. She watched Hashirama making his way out of the crater he had craved into the mountain with his impact and frowned. She probably was mistaken, it was highly improbable that- “They’re all blind around us, each and every one. Most of all that tree-skulled clanhead of yours!” Makoto’s voice cut her pondering and she noticed three of the elders making their way down the street. Hibiko just barked a laugh. “At least he finally had the guts to do something.” “That poor fucker doesn’t even know why he’s done it. Serves him right, getting his ass handed to him.”

Akiyama sighed. “Sometimes, I really wish I’d finally drop dead. This is humiliating.”

“None of us gets to chick out before this stupid affair’s over.”

“Guess you’ll have to complain about backaches for fifty more years”, Makoto cackled, making Hibiko bark out another laugh, as they walked past the corner. “Kami, have mercy on all of us.” 

 

Meanwhile, Madara landed at the mountain’s top, the impact sending a cloud of dust bursting aside. “I’m going to fucking kill you”, the Uchiha snarled, eyes narrowing at Hashirama, who had by now dragged himself out of the mountain and was standing in front of him. 

“I didn’t mean to”, the Senju leader cried, making his best friend…ish person snarl once more, leaping at him and making Hashirama dodge a punch that was meant to break at least one or two ribs. “I’m sorry!”

“Then why the fuck have you done it?!”, Madara would make him sorry! How _dare_ he… How dare he just… Humiliate him like that, when Madara trusted him to take care of whatever fucked up ways his body had been acting up again… and Hashirama had just- How dare he! He could still feel it; soft, warm lips on his own, ever so careful as if attempting to kiss a butterfly instead of a war-forged shinobi. As if he were some fragile thing, most precious, only to be handled with uttermost care.

How humiliating for the leader of the most powerful shinobi-clan (along with the Senju, that is) to be handled like some sort of disgustingly weak insect! And then, Hashirama had even dared to… to call him… 

He jumped at Hashirama once more, making him dodge again, but this time, the Uchiha didn’t cease but went after his Hokage, making him retreat a little further into the forest on top of the cliff. Madara’s kick felled an oak. “Let’s see if you still think I’m beautiful when I’m done gutting you!”

“I’ll always think you are”, Hashirama answered earnestly, making Madara stumble into a halt in front of him, even though this time, the Senju wouldn’t have dodged his blow. “I just… I never realised, you know? Back then, when I… when you… I just felt like I’d never truly _seen_ you before.” By now, attempting to explain whatever it was he was referring to, Hashirama seemed at a loss of words. “I just… I always though you were beautiful, even when we were kids. But it feels like I didn’t realise it all the time, you know? And now I can’t unsee any of it, even if I wanted to!” 

He swallowed, not certain whether to continue but found he couldn’t stop himself, now, that the words were finally coming as if something had snapped into a place that had always been there, just… out of reach, somehow. (And people claimed he was the one who was good with feelings) “Did you know your skin is a perfect shade of ivory? You don’t tan, even in summer, utterly perfectly contrasting your hair -except when the sun makes it shine like the midnight sky. I’ve always seen that, but never truly. And today, when I realised, I just couldn’t…” The Uchiha couldn’t meet Hashirama’s eyes searching his own. “I’m sorry, I… I’m sorry I kissed you, but not because I did, but because of how I did it. I shouldn’t…” This time, he waited until Madara was finally willing to meet his gaze, “I shouldn’t have done it the way I did. I’m sorry”, he breathed once more, uncertain whether his best friend’s rage would be soothed with that.

“Don’t you ever dare calling me that again”, Madara finally answered, looking aside, refusing to meet Hashirama’s eyes once more, as he grit his teeth. “I won’t let anyone disregard me as a warrior, simply because you refuse to acknowledge me as such due to your fucked up concept of whatever the hell you think there is about my face.”

The Senju blinked, surprised at the raven’s notion. It was eerily similar to his father’s believes of beauty, a view he had never truly understood due to its utter ridiculousness. “I will never see anything less in you than the only shinobi I am able to fight on eyelevel with”, he answered, earnestly, attempting to catch the raven’s gaze again. “You’re the perfect match, you always have been.” The only one who would ever be.

Seemingly without his doing, his hands started to move, attentively clasping his palms around Madara’s face, calloused fingers stoking soft, pale skin, thumps caressing the fragile bone beneath. So soft, nearly devastingly beautiful compared to his own, tanned face. (Did he say that out loud?) “I would never dar- _rgh!_ ” For the third time today, Hashirama was sent crashing into his surroundings; this time a bunch of trees he uprooted, bursting some of them, before coming to a halt. Ah, he should really learn to supress that burning desire to touch Madara, to feel his cool skin underneath his own (if anyone ever wanted to scar that perfect, beautiful face again, Hashirama would personally rip off their hands). He dragged himself out of the mess of wood and leaves, getting up again to face Madara who was standing a few meters away, hands curled into fists. “Beauty is for the weak”, he spat, sounding nearly disgusted, however, was still unable to meet the Senju’s eyes. “Don’t you ever call me weak again, Hashirama.”

With that, the Uchiha jolted off, leaving nothing but a cloud of dust. Hashirama let himself slump, the back of his head falling on soft leaves, and groaned. Somehow, this really didn’t end the way he imagined, even though he had absolutely no idea it had been supposed to work in the first place.

 

**(Well, yeah… actually, the chapter was supposed to end here because I’m having a thing for cliff-hangers. At least, if I’m the one who gets to be mean by writing them. But it just happened to be way too short, so here we go.)**

 

“Alright.” Izuna put away his chopsticks, leaning back in his chair. They just had lunch, large beef bowls chilli-style, the way they both (and the majority of their clan) enjoyed them most -well, if Izuna had been able to enjoy his, that is. Madara had been in a terrible mood constantly, ever since he had been coming home yesterday. “Spill the beans.”

“What are you talking about?” His older brother crossed his arms, staring at him, however; all it accomplished was an eye-roll. “You came home yesterday, basically threw poor Tobirama out, smashed the bathroom-mirror -Do you have any idea how I’m supposed to get my hair done from now on; that was our only one- and went to bed. I can’t even remember the last time you’ve been so pissed off.”

“I’ll help you with your hair, if that’s bothering you.”

Izuna stared at him, uncertain about how to answer Madara’s stupid brainchild. “You can’t even get your own into a ponytail and the only reason you let it grow back then was to piss off our father. No offense, Aniki, but I’d rather have a bathroom-mirror.” He had no idea what was up with his older brother, but a certain one about who was responsible. Because Madara’s moods tended to be related to- A quiet knock, nearly hesitating, interrupted his train of thoughts and he got up, since Madara hadn’t finished lunch yet.

“Speaking about the devil.”

Hashirama blinked, a little dumbly maybe. “I’m sorry?”

The younger Uchiha didn’t bother with an adequate answer, instead simply stepping aside, letting his Hokage enter. At least, Madara had managed to eat most of his lunch by now. 

For a few seconds, it seemed the Senju would retreat, however; he entered and awkwardly knocked at the open kitchen-door, making Madara look up. The Uchiha’s eyes narrowed. “What the fuck do you want here?”

Hashirama slumped inwardly. Still mad, it seemed. If only he knew what he had done wrong to make his closest friend that angry. He had been pondering all night, even considered asking Tobirama. However, when his younger brother did come home, he all but grumbled about ‘whatever had gotten into that Uchiha’ and Hashirama decided that probably wasn’t a good time to ask for advice. Thus, he had brushed his teeth and just went to bed, wishing for some reason he wouldn’t have to go alone (how old was he? Two, still asking for his mother to tell him goodnight?). 

“We agreed to train today”, he reminded Madara, a slight ray of hope carrying in his voice.

The Uchiha leader’s eyes narrowed even further and Hashirama could nearly feel his sleeves burning. A few moments passed in awkward silence, before Madara finally got up. “Let’s go.”

Hashirama sighed in relief. “Training Ground Four?”, he offered. Four had been the latest addition they’d made, a large, barren field a few minutes away from their village. It hadn’t even been their idea, but a few shinobi had created it, in order for the ‘strongest shinobi of the village’ to be able to let go at least a little without worrying about damaging property. However; even though the training field was common ground, nobody but their Hokage and his eternal rival/friend/enemy…person would even think about visiting there. Maybe Izuna and Tobirama as well, but that was cutting it, basically. 

Madara nodded. They could at least let loose a little there, he noted, as he made his way to the door. “I’ll be back for the meeting after dinner”, he informed Izuna, who nodded without looking up from the scrolls he was reading in order to avoid doing the dishes. (There was a jutsu for basically everything except maybe summoning the dead, but none to clean some bowls. Something was going wrong, obviously). 

All the way to the training ground, Hashirama chattered about rumours of other shinobi-villages forming. Madara didn’t care too much about the whole drama; with the Senju and Uchiha (and by now the Yamanaka, as well as the Shimura within a few weeks and the Nara not too far behind) there was hardly an alliance able to hold a candle against them.

“If you dare not giving me your best, I will burn your house down”, he stated once they made it to the training field, making Hashirama blink. “If I don’t go all in, you’ll beat me within minutes”, he answered, confusion unfolding on his face. He would never even dream of not giving it all once he was up against Madara. Why did he feel the need to ask, it was just- He leaped aside and within the blink of an eye, Madara’s scythe sliced the ground he had just been standing on. A short laugh escaped him, as he flicked his weapon scroll (a smaller version of his battle-scroll, merely containing a bunch of his favourite weapons instead of the whole enormous collection), summoning one of his favourite broad-swords. Grinning, he took a stance, as Madara leaped at him once more, hair glowing in the sun like silken onyx. 

Hashirama’s sword caught the tip of Madara’s scythe, making the Uchiha whirl around to free his weapon, using the very same motion to get behind Hashirama’s back.

The Senju beamed as he leaped aside, dodging the blow, before bringing some space between them. Every single beat of his heart he felt tenfold, Madara’s hair brushing against his forearm had his skin tingle. There was no place on earth he’d rather be than here and he could see Madara’s lips curling upwards, forming the beginnings of an unbidden smile.

Again, the two clanleaders went at each other, exchanging blows that would knock others of their clan clean off their feet.

 

None of them knew how long they were at it already -maybe ten minutes, maybe two hours, who cared- when Madara’s scythe got caught once more by Hashirama’s blade, whose owner used his advantage to yank the weapon out of the raven’s hand by whirling around and casting his own weapon aside in a powerful blow.

The chain still clinging to the Gunbai Madara had at his side yanked the Uchiha aside and as his opponent accurately kicked him off his already unsteady footing, he finally crashed to the ground, the impact forcing a dry cough out of his lungs. Hashirama flinched, however; forced himself to continue his assault. If he stopped now, he was very aware Madara wouldn’t forgive him easily for interrupting their spar.

He leaped at the Uchiha, who managed to dodge just in time, rolling aside, already on his feet again- just to be yanked down once more by a number of roots wrapping around his ankles. Hashirama unleashed a small chain to take hold of his wrist -the one he was holding his Gunbai with-, pulling sharply to down its prey once more. Madara’s eyes met his as he fell and for a moment, something gleamed within them, captivating him, taking his breath away in a way that had nothing to do with him already breathing hard after their sparring. A single moment dragging way too long.

Finally, Hashirama released the roots holding his friend’s feet onto place, however; the command was too late, ever so slightly. Madara fell aside, feet still fixed tightly to the ground, unable to follow the motion of his body, and he even heard the snap as his ankles splintered, unable to bend any further under the strain. Madara breathed in sharply, eyes widening for a splitsecond, right before the pain erupted.

Of course, he had been hurt before, was no stranger to pain, however; seeing the white end of a bone sticking out of his bleeding flesh certainly didn’t make this a pleasant experience.

It didn’t even take the blink of an eye, before Hashirama forced the roots to retreat back to earth, appearing right beside the Uchiha leader. “I’m sorry”, he breathed, already reaching for his best friend, whose face by now didn’t hide the pain he was in -there was no reason to supress the grimace forming on his face; this wasn’t war, after all. 

Hashirama grit his teeth. This hadn’t been planned, they had agreed on tai-jutsu, after all -even though both of them didn’t take that too closely, there was no spar without at least some flames and curling wood. But… Hashirama had just intended to keep his friend in check, in order to win this spar. This wasn’t battle, Madara hadn’t been prepared for an actual assault to damage his health, just as Hashirama wouldn’t even dream of considering the Uchiha to go at his life as they had been forced to during their battles not even a year ago.

He cut off the nerve-strings, interrupting the pain signals as he went down on his knees next to Madara, who was still laying on the ground, feet twisted unnaturally as both of his ankles were broken, the left one a compound fracture. “I’m sorry”, he breathed once more, carefully setting the broken bone in the inner fracture. How did he screw up this badly? While he wasn’t the only medical shinobi in their village, he was very aware none of the others even came close to his capabilities… and he was fairly certain none of them would be able to fully regenerate the left ankle, as the bones had splintered in three places during the strain in a complicated pattern. If things were different, if he wasn’t a medical genius (and he wasn’t boasting, merely stating a fact everyone was aware about) Madara wouldn’t have been able to walk again without a limp.

Once Hashirama silenced his screaming nerve-endings, Madara briefly closed his eyes in relief, a notion Hashirama didn’t miss.

“I need to set the fragments”, he whispered, not meeting Madara’s eyes as the Uchiha nodded. Carefully, he cut off the training bandages, gaining access to the torn flesh. How did he let this happen? He should’ve stopped! The moment Madara had coughed, he had been distracted, focussed on ending their spar in order to look after him. His head drooped a little, without him taking his eyes off the Uchiha’s wound that by now was slowly closing up. The road to hell was plastered with good intentions, or something among those lines.

“Hey.” Hashirama looked up, meeting the raven’s gaze. “Stop it.” 

The Hokage blinked. “But there’s still a fracture left”, he protested. “I’m not done re-growing the-” Madara rolled his eyes, interrupting his best friend. “Not that, you moron. Stop battering yourself about this. I’ll be fine. I should’ve been more attentive.” He even chuckled a little and Hashirama’s heart peaked up at the sound. “After all, I even told you to give me your best.”

‘Giving ones best’ in a spar and basically going for the kill didn’t really have much in common, however; Hashirama didn’t press the matter. Discussing such things with Madara never truly worked out for him.

Instead, he carefully brushed his thump across the slender foot in his lap, attentively healing a small scratch Madara probably hadn’t even noticed. The bandages that had been around his shins were ruined, no use in attempting to wrap them again. Instead, he stuffed them in one of his pockets, before getting up, offering Madara a hand. For a moment, the Uchiha stared at his outstretched palm, a number of emotions mirroring in his onxy eyes, too quickly even for Hashirama to catch them. Then, he took the offer, Hashirama’s warm skin pleasant on his own. He knew Hashirama would beat himself up about this accident for the next few days, no use in adding gas to the flame. It was, what it was: An accident. Accidents happened, such was life.

“Let’s go home”, he offered, making Hashirama smile quietly. ‘Home’ had become a very different place for all of them during the last few months, no longer a place of tents, harshness and the constant need to watch your back. Without thinking, he gently squeezed the slightly smaller palm within his own. Home sounded wonderful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of shit happened irl... sorry I'm taking so long. Doing my best tho! Cheers for my self-pitying ass, please.


	17. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> About which the author isn't certain if it's a filler or not, but she did her best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since lovely Staraxia pointed something out in a comment, I though I’d put it in a note, since I imagine some of you might be thinking the same:
> 
> When Madara and Hashirama spared in the last chapter, they agreed on tai-jutsu only. However, worrying about Madara’s health, Hashirama wanted to end their spar quickly, and due to using his Mokuton to keep Madara in place, ended up using nin-jutsu.  
> And while indeed Madara would certainly be able to counter that in a true fight, he didn’t use his own nin-jutsu in this spar because they’d agreed not to. So well… basically the whole accident happened, because Madara didn’t cheat back on Hashirama because he was too proud to do so. At least, that’s what I had in mind *laughs*

“This really isn’t the best of timing.”

Madara huffed without pausing his pace. “Don’t you dare whining now. The Shimura joined not even a week ago; you could’ve postponed this.”

Hashirama sighed. “I know, I know.” 

During their last conference, they had agreed to meet again a soon as Konohagakure’s leader was named and three days ago, the Daimyo had sent a letter, congratulating Hashirama for being elected as Hokage and asking for another meeting -one Hashirama would be actually able to negotiate in the name of their village. He was glad Madara had agreed to accompany him, even though that had been inevitable due to the Uchiha’s status as his only advisor. It wasn’t as if both of them didn’t already have enough work piled up their asses, in fact, the mountain of paper they had to deal with seemed to grow every day. Without Tobirama and Izuna, they probably wouldn’t even have time to get some sleep in between. By now, Izuna was basically the one who ran the clan; Madara didn’t even have time to do anything other than signing the documents his younger brother had worked out for him and he knew Hashirama wasn’t off much better. More often than not, the four of them sat together in the Hokage’s office, brooding, discussing and planning. The children who’d enter the Academy were already chosen, however; there was still so much to decide. The timetable would have to be tough enough for them to truly learn the arts of jutsu, however they still needed enough time off, to simply be children. The exams shouldn’t be too hard or easy. And what about the older children who already had to fight before they both took over their clans’ leadership? And these questions merely concerned the Academy, not even bothering with the rest of Konoha’s administration…

“Hey.” Madara raised his gaze, meeting Hashirama’s deep umber eyes. “We’ll make it work. Not all at once, but one after the other.” The Uchiha couldn’t supress a chuckle. Sometimes, it seemed Hashirama was able to see right through him, reading his mind like an open book and he wasn’t certain how to feel about that. Instead, he settled on stating: “We should rest soon.”

They hadn’t been able to leave the village before early afternoon, making it impossible to cross Fire-Country until nightfall. And while both of them weren’t strangers to skipping a night’s sleep, they wouldn’t want to participate in tomorrow’s negotiations under such circumstances. 

Madara chose to wait until they were deep within another forest, before casting out his senses. “Not a single chakra-source.” Of course, supressed chakra would go under the radar, however; he was effortlessly able to scan a radius of a dozen miles around them. Hashirama nodded, before forming the seal of snake, using nearly undetectable miniature amounts of chakra to form the trees and branches around them into a small hut, just enough space for the two of them to rest for a few hours. 

“Still nothing”, Madara updated after checking once more, making Hashirama nod. If anyone neared the place, his Mokuton would warn him. The Uchiha sat down next to him, leaning his Gunbai at the wooden wall where he could grab it immediately, if need arose. Then, he wrapped himself more tightly in his mantle. The night was cooler than expected but neither wanted to catch unwanted attention with the smoke of a fire or the stirring of chakra. The only food they had brought with them were some onigiri Izuna had made out of the breakfast leftovers. 

Madara’s frame shivered once more as Hashirama set down, too, and after a moment he patted the place next to him. “Come here.” 

The Uchiha’s black eyes narrowed. “If you get any stupid ideas, I’ll kick you out.”

Hashirama laughed, maybe a little sheepishly, however, before he could come up with an answer, the raven drew closer until he could feel Hashirama’s warmth radiating on his side. He had only gotten around three hours of sleep last night and the day before, it hadn’t been much better. Now that they finally rested, he could feel the exhaustion creeping into his bones and the reassuring warmth next to him was fighting off the night’s chill.

Feeling Madara’s weight against him was comforting in a way Hashirama hadn’t anticipated. He had to be truly tired, to fall asleep within minutes, heavily leaning against his side. Rays of moonlight caught in his hair, making it gleam midnight blue, illumination his pale face in a nearly ethereal way. His head tilted slightly, cheek resting on Hashirama’s shoulder.

Ever so cautious, he lifted his hand, caressing Madara’s cheek with his index finger, fairly certain this counted as one of the stupid ideas but unable to help himself. The raven would always be beautiful, no matter how much he hated it. 

Hashirama could very well remember one of his father’s earliest lessons. _If you ever don’t know whom to fight in battle, go for the pretty ones_ , he’d told him, all those years ago, when even he had been too small to fight proper opponents. _Whenever you face an enemy, remember: The more scars they bear, the uglier they are, the more fights they have survived. Survival makes shinobi strong. The pretty ones, with their perfect hair and unmaimed faces are those who have no experience. They haven’t fought a proper battle yet, they are weak, hiding behind their clan. If you want to survive, go for the pretty ones. Those are the weakest._

Hashirama couldn’t supress a mirthless smile. How ironic that the prettiest one, the most beautiful, was the strongest he had ever met. Already at a young age, he had come to doubt that questionable wisdom of his father. However; associating ugliness with battle power -and in return, beauty with weakness- was a prejudice having lasted countless generations. 

Absently, he noted his fingers had acted on their own once more, caressing Madara’s face, his thump stroking over the Uchiha’s pale lower-lip ever so softly. Obviously, the Senju clan hadn’t been the only one spreading such nonsense, he thought, gaze gently tracing his companion’s frail features. Not a single scar on his face and- Abruptly, he stopped himself, forcing his body to straighten again. Madara wouldn’t forgive another kiss that easily… no matter how much he craved it.

Sighing, he raised his head. It was a wonder his raven slept through all this; shinobi were trained to waken at the slightest disturbance. However; Madara was quite used to his presence in his sleep by now, maybe his subconsciousness didn’t notice him as a threat anymore. (He should really figure out where this intense crave to touch hailed from, it was getting rather unhealthy at this point.)

 

When Madara woke for the first time, sleep was still heavy on him, pulling full consciousness way out of reach. He was warm though and breathed out in relief before snuggling deeper into the source of warmth and comfort. 

The second time, he was instantly wide awake. It felt like he had been asleep way longer than he should and- “I didn’t do nothing!”

His eyes narrowed and he slowly got up from where he had been tucked at Hashirama’s chest, his head rested in the nook between his shoulder and chest. However, the light flooding the place made him refrain from unleashing his temper, settling for “How late is it?” instead.

“Sunrise was around three hours ago”, Hashirama supplied, making the Uchiha stare at him for a moment, before regaining his wits. “Why didn’t you wake me, shithead?! We’ll be too late!” Out of all the things Hashirama could’ve fucked up, this one was one of the worst! Without even bothering to try taming his hair, he grabbed his Gunbai. “Get the fuck up! We need to get going!”

Hashirama sighed. Not even an hour ago, he had been woken by Madara snuggling even deeper to him, after he had steadily crawled closer during the night. At one point, Hashirama had woken up with the Uchiha basically in his lap, probably searching for warmth. Still half asleep himself, he had wrapped an arm around his slender waist, pulling him even closer, before letting sleep overcome him once more. 

He had considered waking Madara, however; both of them hadn’t gotten enough rest the last days and while he was able to adapt, Madara’s body needed the extra sleep to prevent relapse in his health. Thus, he had been quiet, carefully observing the Uchiha’s slow, deep breaths and closing his eyes ever once in a while to fully enjoy the sensation of the smaller body pressed against his.

Unfortunately, Madara didn’t share the sentiment.

“Get up, Senju”, he barked. “Fucking shit, I can’t believe you!”

 

“My Lord, they appear to be late.”

The Daimyo merely nodded. Their meeting had been scheduled at noon, however; him, his advisors Daisuke and Hikuto, as well as his four most capable guards already waited for a while even though- the door opened without warning, revealing Senju Hashirama, the recently elected Hokage of the shinobi village. “Sorry for being late, we had to face some difficulties during our trip.” 

His umber hair was slightly tousled but he took his seat without hesitating, smiling at the three people in front of him. Behind him, another shinobi had entered, long raven hair covering most of his pale face, one eye hidden behind it. He was slightly slimmer than the Senju, his figure less muscular and bulky. In comparison he seemed nearly… fair, in lack of a better description, Daisuke thought. In fact, the man who had to be Uchiha Madara was eerily handsome for a shinobi, especially one spreading such fear amongst his enemies. None of them had seen him in person so far, since the Senju were the ones their Daimyo had usually contracted with, forcing their rivals to ally with the Uchiha. 

Uchiha Madara’s single visible eye sharply scanned the room, before he took the seat to Hashirama’s left. Shielding his weaker side, Daisuke noted dimly; Hashirama was right-handed.

“I am sorry to hear about your inconvenience”, Hikuto finally spoke up. “Let us get started to not waste time, then.” He took out a small scroll, setting it on the table. “We are happy to hear about your village expanding, Hokage-san. However, at this rate our Daimyo might become targeted by our enemies, since the Senju no longer are our allies.”

“The Senju are still loyal to their Daimyo”, Hashirama argued. “However, by now it is not just us but four clans willing to fight for Fire-Country, if necessary.”

Hikuto nodded, noting something his scroll. “We are glad to hear that. However; with the village expanding at this rate, you certainly are able to dispense some of your shinobi in order to protect your Daimyo, in case our enemies attempt to hire other clans for his assassination, with so much physical distance between him and his protectors.”

The Senju frowned. “I cannot simply forgo the number of shinobi it would take to guard him day and night. Especially not at times like this, Hikuto-san. We are still unstable and there’s a lot of matter currently up for discussion. Besides, the time ahead of us is essential for all clans to get accustomed to this new way of life.” 

The Daimyo’s first advisor obviously didn’t agree. “Do not forget whom this village is credited to, Hashirama-san. If you cannot return any of your Daimyo’s kindness, I am not certain you will receive much of his anymore.”

“If the Daimyo is so very upset by the possibility of assassination, he may move to Konoha.” Daisuke nearly shivered upon the Uchiha’s voice raising for the first time since entering, sharp enough to slice flesh yet still chillingly cool. “The Uchiha have had deep rooted connections to the three wealthiest families in Fire-Country since over a century. While contracting with its Daimyo is our preferred way of survival, it is not the only one. We do not rely on any of you, so drop this child’s play of attempted blackmail.”

Madara’s words had come sharp and precise, like a snake striking to kill its prey. The silence after was thick enough to cut until the Daimyo himself spoke up: “If that is true, I fear your union with the Uchiha is doomed to fail”, he told Hashirama, who frowned. “If the Uchiha choose another path for the village’s future, the Senju will follow”, he simply declared, eyes meeting Madara’s for a single moment dragging too long. Just as he knew the Uchiha would follow the Senjus’ lead if it were the other way around. None of them would simply turn their backs anymore. If Madara decided negotiations with the Daimyo were fruitless, he would respect that decision and follow the Uchiha’s plans. 

“The moment you fully unsheathe your weapons, I will kill you.” 

Again, it was the Uchiha leader’s voice that cut through them, making Daisuke notice the guards had halfway drawn their katana due the last parts of conversation, obviously preparing for escalation. One of them narrowed his eyes at Madara before drawing his katana, teeth bared in dare.

There was a flash of movement too fast for anyone of them to observe, before- Hashirama’s laugher echoed in the large room, unfitting for the strained atmosphere. His palm rested on the Uchiha’s shoulder and with a shudder Daisuke noticed the slim blade that had appeared out of nothing but thin air in the raven’s fingers, no doubt able to kill off its target with a single move not even taking the blink of an eye. However, the Hokage didn’t seem concerned in the slightest, still smiling widely, nearly on the verge of grinning. “You’ll have to forgive Madara, he doesn’t take well on security risks”, he laughed, eyes sparking as he watched the Uchiha with a fondness that was uncalled for and so very intimate it made Daisuke wish to avert his gaze.

He watched the weapon disappear within the split of a second -he didn’t even know where he had put it on his person- as the Uchiha’s body relaxed slightly under Hashirama’s touch. Daisuke felt his mouth falling open, forcing it shut, but still not able to stop starring. If anyone on this godforsaken world was able to control that Uchiha, it was Senju Hashirama… and he felt all of them should take care in remembering that.

“Now, then.” The Hokage smiled as if nothing had happened these last minutes, folding his hands on the table. “Let us start over, shall we?”

 

“I heard he’s a dark man and his aura’s burning hot”, one of her maidens whispered.

“I heard he’s beautiful, but he kills everyone in his way… are you certain about this, Hime-sama?”, the other one asked.

The Daimyo’s daughter nodded. While she had seen Hashirama-sama, the leader of the Senju clan, twice already -even though only out of the distance- none of them had ever seen Uchiha Madara in person. There were rumours, however; most of them didn’t even fit with each other. One told about him being a demon, having no mercy on the battlefield and off, another one claimed he was beautiful in a way most woman could only dream of, a third whispered whoever looked at his eyes was doomed to death.

Sakuya had been curious about that man ever since she had first heard of him, when his father told his advisors to contact the Senju since one of the rivalling families had contradicted with the Uchiha -Hashirama was claimed to be the only one able to stop the Uchiha leader. And since the two clans had been at war longer than anyone could remember, seeing that man had been all but impossible.

Now, however… “Negotiations with my father lasted all day; from what I know they decided to stay the night and depart at sunrise. It’s now or never!” She couldn’t take any chances by waiting for a better time, not if there might never be one. 

Gratefully, both shinobi had refused a guard in front of their rooms, making things easier now.

Just sneaking a tiny peek, it wasn’t as if they’d hurt anyone… and besides, it was the dead of night, he would be fast asleep. It wasn’t as if they were hurting anyone, after all.

Ever so careful, she opened the door, tiptoeing inside. She could already see him, he was sleeping on his bedroll at the window. All she could see of his face was a mountain of hair, though, black in the way it was common for Uchiha (or so she had heard).

Carefully, she sneaked closer, until she could see his face in the moonlight and felt her breath hitch. “He really is beautiful”, she whispered, staring at the pale face -or rather the parts of it that weren’t hidden under so much hair it made her wish hers would only be half as voluminous. She leaned forward ever so slightly, to catch a closer look, however, the rest of him was covered under two bedsheets. If only she could- “The one time I called you beautiful, you punched me straight into the mountain.”

The three woman flinched at the unfamiliar voice, whirling around even though the words had been spoken with a chuckle, entirely good-natured. She immediately recognised Senju Hashirama standing at the door (neither had heard him open it, how had he entered?) and felt her mouth opening in panic, however, was interrupted by a second voice hailing from the man who had been fast sleep not even seconds ago, however; sounded way too awake for having just woken up. “That is because you didn’t break every bone in your miserable body, even though you deserved it.”

Graceful as a cat of prey, Madara got up from his bedroll, the sheets sliding down on him. Sakuya felt her heart beat way too fast, hastily looking back and forth between the two men, the two maidens next to her still frozen in shock.

“Next time, you better just knock”, Hashirama advised good-natured, before turning to his partner. “When you didn’t react, I got worried”, he told him, making the raven roll his eyes once. “Moron”, he answered, before turning to the three women. “If you ever consider sneaking up on someone again, just don’t”, he told them. “Consider yourself lucky you weren’t killed the moment you opened the door.”

“Sneaking up on a shinobi isn’t the best of ideas”, Hashirama agreed, before he smiled at them. “But since we’re already here, might I ask why you intended on watching my advisor in his sleep?”

By now, Sakuya hadn’t managed to get her voice back, but at least one of her maidens did. “We just… wanted to know what he looked like”, she explained, not able to meet anyone’s eyes. “All these rumours and Sakuya-sama just wanted to… to…” At a loss of words, she broke off.

Hashirama smiled widely. “Sakuya?”, he asked. “The Daimyo’s only daughter, isn’t it? It’s a pleasure meeting you.” At the other side of the room, Madara made a sound clearly indicating he thought differently. “Since we are heading home tomorrow morning, this isn’t a good time for talk. However, how about I officially invite the three of you to the village? You ma _mph!_ ” The rest was cut off when a single pillow collided with the Hokage’s face.

“You can write that letter right now if you want to but get the fuck out of my room!”

Hashirama couldn’t supress a fond smile. Madara was in a mood again, but he always was if he was woken up without proper reason -or rather, what he considered such. The Uchiha’s hair was a mess and he felt his fingers tingle with the desire to smooth them out of his face. He opened the door for their visitors, before exiting himself. “I will try to write the letter as soon as I find the time”, he promised. “However; for now I’ll get back to bed to sleep some more, and so should you.”

Tomorrow would be another busy day, after all.

(And sometimes, even that was an understatement.)


	18. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A shitload of tails, duh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, this took a month to write...  
> And I hate it. I'm not certain why -probably because it's all talk somehow- but I really dislike this chapter. I'll try to write some pleasant stuff in the next one. I've planned so much and probably will scratch half of it because it just doesn't fit.  
> Anyway. Lovely Staraxia wanted to thank me for mentioning her in one of my notes in an earlier chapter and she decided to gift me a fic! I'm so excited and happy, no one's ever done something like that for me! It's called All the Rays of Sun in case anyone wants to give it a shot. (Please do!)
> 
> No responsibility for any occuring mistakes. It's after 1am but I REALLY wanted to post this for you before tomorrow. I'll probably be ashamed as soon as I re-read.

“All in all, it went rather well, didn’t it?”

“The bastards tried to blackmail you.”

“But in the end, they didn’t.”

“That’s because I would’ve slaughtered them, if they’d tried again.”

“And that’s why I need you at my side”, Hashirama laughed, nearly making Madara miss a step that would have had him stumble right into a tree. 

“You really need to work on your phrasing”, he muttered, making his best friend laugh once more. He had a beautiful laugh, the kind that warmed your heart just by hearing it. Even more precious in world like theirs; it was in desperate need of some warmth, after all.

They had departed just a little after sunrise and would hopefully be back in Konohagakure at early evening. After the disastrous start of their meeting, they had indeed managed to accomplish more than Madara had anticipated. Unfortunately, most of it would lead to even more paperwork in the future.

“The things we do for peace”, he chuckled, making Hashirama smile. At times like this, it nearly seemed too easy. Whatever the future held up for them, he was up to it… as long as Madara was at his side.

And then there were times like those a few hours later at early afternoon, when Madara stated out of nothing but thin air: “There are four Bijuu at the outsides of Konoha” and all he could do was blink dumbly, asking “What?”

The raven huffed. “Have you gone deaf, Senju?”, he asked dryly, before repeating: “Four Tailed Beasts are currently right outside of Konoha, another one is approaching from south-west. Kurama and Nibi aren’t amongst them.” If he had been paying closer attention, he would have noted the masses of chakra long since, however was only kneading chakra once in a while during their travel in order to avoid unwanted attention. “It seems they heard of a certain someone’s invitation”, he mocked sharply, making the Hokage’s head droop. “I didn’t mean it like that”, he attempted to defeat himself, however, all he achieved was Madara laughing at him.

It was a beautiful laugh, Hashirama noted, listening with a strange feeling of… warmth… in his chest. Deep and genuine, just a side melodic and the slightest bit mockingly -which Hashirama found he enjoyed most, because he had always been the only once who received this good-natured mocking laugher from his best friend.

“Let’s get going then!”

 

“I _will_ kill him.”

“No offense, but a lot of people already tried to.”

“I’ll tear his brain right out of his ear. See if he survives that.”

Izuna wolf-whistled. “That might actually work. Or… do you think his body’ll just grow another brain?”

“He never needed it anyway”, Tobirama growled. “Wouldn’t even make a difference.”

In a flash, an Uchiha kunoichi arrived in front of them. “Itami”, Izuna greeted her, before she reported: “Two-Tails is closing in”, making Tobirama nod once. That had been expected, after all. Since yesterday, the Bijuu had started arriving at their village. Eight-Tails had been first, its giant octopus-tails swirling behind as it had barrelled straight at Konoha. Izuna and Tobirama had awaited it in front of the valley that had been created during Madara’s fight with the Kyuubi.

“Hachibi”, Tobirama had called out. “What leads you to our village?”

The Bijuu had stopped then, glancing at the two shinobi in its path. “Kurama told me I might come to face you”, it drawled then. “But I am here to meet my brothers, Indra and Ashura, whom we all thought long lost. Step aside, I have no business with you.”

Great, Izuna thought. It seemed after the Kyuubi-incident, they should adapt to regular Bijuu-visits, after all. Maybe building an entrance claiming _Dear Tailed Beast, please stop here, rebuilding the village will be a shitload of work after you stomp it to the ground._ Instead he went for “Madara and Hashirama are currently on their way to the Daimyo, negotiating future contracts. We don’t expect them back until tomorrow afternoon at the earliest.”

The Ox’s strange round eyes narrowed. “Kurama already told me they do neither remember their names, nor any of us. It does not matter to us; they still share our chakra, they still are our brothers. I shall wait for them, then, and inform Shukaku as soon as he arrives.”

“And who would Shukaku be?”, Tobirama asked, carefully refraining from crossing his arms. No need to start this on bad terms. Facing Kyuubi had cost Madara his eyesight and even though he was confident he could take Hachibi on if him and Izuna teamed up, that was absolutely not the preferred outcome.

“Amongst humans, Shukaku is better known as One-Tails, I assume. I informed him before heading to this place, I think he will arrive within the next hours, as soon as he has sought out Isobu”, Hachibi drawled. “We haven’t spoken in so long, seeking each other out now is more difficult than it should.” And why was he even telling these two about that? They could be lucky he hadn’t just stomped them down, but considering what Kurama said -that Ashura had claimed they were brothers of theirs- it would be uncalled for.

“So, what you are saying is, the One-Tails is currently heading towards Konoha as well”, Tobirama repeated slowly, making the Eight-Tails huff. “Are you deaf?”, it demanded, one of its tails hitting the ground in irritation, causing it to tremble beneath their feet. “Afterwards, I imagine Isobu -whom you will just know as Three-Tails- will follow, after having sought out one of the others. Kurama is currently on his way north, looking for Saiken. But that’s none of your business. Get lost now, I’ll wait for them here.”

Four hours later, One-Tails had arrived, then Six-Tails, and Izuna claimed life had turned into some badly written novella, as they had talked to Ichigo before informing their own clans. 

And just like that, seven Bijuu currently lingered around their village. One after one had turned up, claiming they wanted to talk to their brothers and even though weary was the understatement of the century, the people of Konoha dealed with the giant looming shadows, the rumbles whenever one of the creatures even only moved and the knowledge that not even the clan-leaders’ brothers could do anything if they decided to annihilate the village and everyone within.

“Izuna-sama.” Itami’s voice took him back to the present and he focussed back on the kunoichi’s report. “Hokage-sama and Madara-sama are nearing the village as well.”

Immediately, Tobirama cast out his senses. With these gigantic pools of unsuppressed chakra around them, searching for any other signatures was a headache -literally- which ultimately forced him alongside the village’s other sensors to refrain from kneading chakra for extended periods of time. Those who were assigned to carefully kept at least a few miles between their posts and the village in order to ease the struggle at least a little.

“Let’s inform Ichigo-san.”

Tobirama nodded. The Yamanaka clanhead had been there during their brothers’ first meeting with the Two-Tails, after all. It wouldn’t do any harm to have him take part on the second one, as well. 

Thus, the three of them were on their way exactly one minutes and forty seconds later. 

“Let’s hope Hashirama didn’t sell the village’s eternal service for breakfast”, Tobirama huffed, making Izuna bark a laugh. “Let’s hope Aniki didn’t kill off the entire castle afterwards.” “That would certainly be worth it”, the Senju deemed, making Izuna grin. “Remember that one time we fought, and you used that jutsu to dissolve my blade into boiling water? It worked but then your scroll exploded. I totally remember you claimed it was worth it, too, but I still don’t know why.”

“Because the scroll was supposed to disarm you and it did”, Tobirama supplied, making the Uchiha roll his eyes.

“How often did you fight?”, Ichigo finally asked. He wasn’t certain the questions wouldn’t seem odd, however; he was truly interested. The battles between Senju and Uchiha were legendary and just as the clanheads were arch-enemies, battling each other whenever their clans crashed, such were their younger brothers. Izuna shrugged. “I never really counted, I guess-” “Thirty-seven.” The Uchiha blinked. “What now?” “Thirty-seven”, Tobirama repeated, not taking his eyes from the path in front of them. “Six times less than Anija and Madara fought, their count is forty-three as far as I’m aware.”

Izuna rolled his eyes. “You have issues”, he claimed, even though somehow, he wasn’t even surprised. Ichigo was, though. A draw happened every so often, however, such a number was incredible, especially considering the opponents’ battle-strength. 

Tobirama refrained from answering -and rolling his eyes- as they stopped at the edge of the battlefield. Two-Tails and their brothers were just a few miles from here, closing in quickly. After a few minutes, he could already see the masses blue flames enclosing the giant cat, however; neither Hashirama nor Madara were to be seen, even though their chakra was closing in just as quickly.

Izuna blinked. “You gotta be shitting me.” Ichigo and Tobirama both turned to him, noticing his Sharingan were activated, slowly rotating even though he refrained from calling his Mangekyou to life. “What happened”, the Senju asked, only to be answered with a huff. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you”, he muttered dryly. “Just wait, you’ll see.”

Two-Tails closed in further and Tobirama could finally hear his brother’s laugh. “And then the rock hit me straight from above! I went down and Madara laughed at me, claiming it totally was a draw. That was the second headache.” 

“The first one was when you ran straight into a rock because you were busy showing me that ‘Awesome Nin-Gen Transcription Water Earth Carpet jusu’ that never even made sense”, Madara stated dryly, making Hashirama cry out. “It totally did! You just never were open for it! I told you, if you would’ve even tried to-” “No.” “Madara!” Kami, even all the way up Tobirama could hear his brother wine. It really was ten kinds of pathetic. 

Next to them, Ichigo stilled. “Don’t tell me-” Finally, Two-Tails had reached the field and for a single moment, Tobirama didn’t know whether he wanted to laugh, cry, or rip his brother a new one. All at once, probably and he didn’t even know where to start.

All the way up, right onto the giant flaming head, his brother sat surrounded by blue fire, right next to the Bijuu’s left ear, laughing as he told some story that had to hail from the times him and Madara had met at the river all those years ago. The Uchiha sat next to him, cross-legged, his Gunbai resting in his lap. “Don’t listen to him. I tell you, Matatabi, the jutsu was awesome! He was just to prude to get it!”

“Even though I am inclined to believe you, your attempts at jutsu have always ended in disaster, Ashura. I remember one time -you were even younger than you are now- you were determined to figure out a jutsu in order to seal some kind of tree. I don’t remember much more; I was barely more than a cub at that time. However; it ended with the village covered in mud and father having to scrub the living room.”

Madara laughed loudly -something he rarely ever indulged in. “That sounds like you.” He got up, grabbing his Gunbai and gracefully leaped down from the Bijuu’s head, landing in front of Izuna and ignoring Hashirama’s protest, before the older Senju finally jumped down as well, extinguishing some fire that was still clinging to his shoulder. Tobirama felt a vain on his forehead throb. “Please don’t tell me you have ridden a Bijuu all the way back to the village.”

Hashirama blinked in surprise. “Of course not. Matatabi caught up with us halfway back.”

The Bijuu’s two-coloured eyes took in the whitehaired shinobi. “This is the one you deem your brother?”, it asked, making Hashirama laugh sheepishly. “Well, we had the same parents, I believe that’s the point.”

Before Matatabi was able to disagree -shared flesh didn’t mean anything, after all chakra was what truly counted- the ground rumbled beneath their feet, as one of the Bijuu probably got up. “Ashura? Is that you?”

And then another, female sounding voice added: “Indra… Indra is with him!”

The ground shook heavily, as seven Tailed Beasts set their gigantic mass into motion, getting up, one of them flying and whoever was inside their houses at the moment probably was afraid the walls would collapse around them.

“Please don’t stomp down the village, please don’t stomp down the village”, Izuna muttered. Since they had met with the Two-Tails and their older brothers outside the village, on the barren battlefield Madara had fought the Kyuubi on, it offered at least enough space for all of them. However, one carelessly flicked tail would be enough to tear down half of Konoha.

“It is them!”

“Kurama was right, after all.”

“He’s always been an asshole but never a liar.”

“When I heard about Senju and Uchiha making peace, my niece claimed that is was -and I quote- the most awkward thing to ever happen. I hate to break it into her, but she was wrong.”

Izuna huffed. “So, you do have a sense of humour”, he mocked the Yamanaka, making Tobirama roll his eyes. “Stop pestering Ichigo-san. We have bigger things to worry about. Literally.”

As little as Izuna wanted to admit such, Tobirama was right. While a single Bijuu at a time was a lot to deal with, seven -now eight- at once was really taking the cake. Naturally, the flying one -Seven-Tails- was the first to arrive, however; the others took merely a few moments more. Soon, they had surrounded the five humans in their midst; eight pairs of eyes glued at them, numerous tails swishing around.

Hashirama smiled, turning around once to meet each of their gazes. “Welcome, all of you”, he greeted. “I’ll be honest; Madara noticed you when we were on our way back from the Daimyo, therefore I’m afraid we haven’t prepared anything.”

“It’s true, then?”, one of them asked; it was the snail-like Beast. “That you don’t remember anything? That you don’t remember us?”

Surprisingly, it was Madara who answered. “We cannot remember anything before our actual birth, Six-Tails. I know you think we are your brothers, but I will not lie to you on a topic of such importance: We are not. I had five brothers once; I lost four of them. I feel your pain and agony, however; none of it changes that fact that I am Uchiha Madara… and even though he is now Hokage, this man will never be anyone else than Senju Hashirama.”

“You truly have forgotten, then.” Five-Tails bowed its head, watching the two of them, considering, before going on. “I am Kokuō”, it introduced itself, then. “It does not matter, whether you remember or not. We still share father’s chakra, we still are brothers. If you wish for me to retreat, I’ll leave and never bother you again in this new life. But if you don’t-” “Then I’ll rain fire and death onto that Daimyo’s land for daring to oppose you”, the Seven-Tails interrupted. “Because that is what brothers do.”

“And if you want me to, I will build a wall around your village, no one will ever be able to break”, One-Tails offered. Its voice was strangely high-pitched for a being of such incredible size, Izuna thought. Better not mention that, though, or else he might poke a sore spot. “My defence is perfect, after all!”

Hashirama smiled again. It seemed, their shared village did so much more than put two clans to peace. The Yamanaka, the Shimura, the Nara as soon as they had fully come to an agreement about their forests, the Kyuubi, and now this. He felt a wave of gratefulness wash over him, pure gratitude for this miracle that lead to all of them standing here, to him standing here next to that man he had been forced at war with.

“My father couldn’t even remember why we were at war with the Uchiha.” The words just spilled out of his mouth, forced by the intense amount of emotion suddenly building up in his chest. They had brought two war-forged clans to peace, did the unthinkable of joining people separated by oceans of blood. And now… now they stood here, at yet another battlefield, with those beings who hated humanity just as much as they were hated themselves by whatever paces destiny had spun for them to end up here. “Neither could his father… or even his father’s father”, he continued. “Uchiha killed Senju, Senju killed Uchiha, driven by an endless circle or hate. We still don’t know where it all started but we were desperate to-” “Ashura.” 

Hashirama stopped, raising his gaze to meet that of Four-Tails. The Bijuu similar to a giant ape watched him out of serious eyes. “When you killed Indra… and Indra killed you… your people started doing the same. Your children fought those of Indra, as did your grand-children… and those after, again and again and again. Saiken and I attempted to soothe at one point, to make them remember whatever was left of their bond, of all that was lost… They attempted to kill us, to use our chakra against each other. In our naiveté, we started a craving for Bijuu-chakra that only stopped when we finally killed those who wouldn’t stop persuading. In the end, our hatred for humanity grew stronger than it had ever been before, and we finally stopped caring as those we once considered family slaughtered each other.”

“At least until Kurama started running around, claiming he found you, and each and every one of us rushed here to finally meet you again, after all these millennia”, Eight-Tails supplied, scratching its head. “Even though it would certainly be way more touching if you could actually remember any of us.”

“We can’t have it all, Gyūki”, Three-Tails rumbled. “Let’s be happy with what we got. It doesn’t truly matter if they believe it all. What matters is that _we_ know. And this time, we are strong enough to protect all of us. Even from each other, if we have to!”

“Don’t jinx it”, Matatabi cautioned. “Indra has already overpowered Kurama once, I’m not certain we would be able to force them apart, if-” “We will, if we have to!”, Five-Tails growled. “I will not sit back again and watch just because our brothers are stronger than us!”

Hashirama lifted his hands soothingly. “After all we have been through, I seriously doubt it’ll ever come down to that.” Not if he could help it! Not if he… He would never let that one nightmare become reality. For a moment, he could see it; Madara’s dark coat wet with blood, Hashirama’s katana in his back, as he went to his knees in front of him, cursing his -not _theirs_ , his and his alone- village to an ever-lasting spiral of hatred and war. He would never... his fingers itched to move towards the Uchiha, to be covered in healing chakra, making sure he was alright, he was breathing, was right next to him were he belonged. At his side, ever since that senseless war was over… and if he was honest, even before. Ever since he had met that sultry boy at the river, showing him how to skip rocks.


	19. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hashirama gets it. A little.  
> Also, someone is going to get their ass kicked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m back, baby.  
> And soon I’ll be gone again.  
> I’m gonna start my Master-Studies in October and I’m gonna have to move to Dresden for that, basically all the way across the country. If anyone’s interested, I’m gonna make my Master’s degree in Research in advanced training and Organisational development (“Weiterbildungsforschung und Organsationsentwicklung”).  
> Further news: I finally got a new notebook. The old one’s hard drive is fucked and letters w, s, x and 2 just won’t work properly anymore. Now I got a Gaming Laptop (even though a cheap one); finally I can start running Raids in WoW again, letting fuckers die who refuse to get out of the crossfire because they “have heal”. Remember guys: Pissing off your Heal… never a good idea if you wanna live.

“What are you doing?”

“Reading”, the Uchiha answered, eyes still firmly on the stone tablet in front of him. The room was empty of anything but the tablet -not even a large one, approximately the size of an adult’s upper body- and two fire bowls, illuminating the room in several shades of flickering flames.

“I can see that”, the Senju chuckled, sitting down next to Madara, facing the tablet thatreted on a small pedestal at the wall. “I can’t read anything”, he confessed, making the raven refrain from rolling his eyes. “You shouldn’t even be here. This temple is sacred to the Uchiha.” His eyes still didn’t leave the tablet, his Eternal Mangekyou Sharingan rotating as he struggled to decipher another part of the inscription. He felt Hashirama flinch next to him, as he made to get up and leave. “Ah… I’m sorry! I didn’t know, I just wondered-“ Yeah, he wasn’t the only one, Madara thought wryly. Hashirama hadn’t followed him as he had made way to the sacred temple; how had he even been able to seek him out? The whole building was underground for a reason. However, this was the thing about him… the Senju always found him. It probably didn’t matter where he went, if Hashirama set his mind to it, he would find him. 

“Stay.” 

The word was out before he was even aware of it and Hashirama halted next to him, before carefully sitting down cross-legged. It was strangely quiet in the village, now that the Bijuu had left -all of them but Matatabi who currently resided in the forest outside the village, parts of which Hashirama personally had redesigned to her liking and comfort. The trees were taller, allowing her to move without having to tear them down, some of them even wide enough to offer shadow, others leaving open glades and a generous river that Tobirama had helped create. She was uncertain about the length of her visit, however; Hashirama attempted to make it as pleasurable as possible. None of them knew what Kurama was up to, Seiken had been up to date the most, since he had told her he was “Looking for something”, without further definition what it was he was searching.

A drip of red caught his attention, drawing him back to the present as a single drop of blood dripped from Madara’s lashes, drawing a sharp crimson line on his cheek. He felt something stir at the sight, a strange tug at his heart forcing him to ever carefully cup the Uchiha’s cheek, turning it as to have the other face him before he wiped away the trace with his thump.

“It’s not worth overextending your eyes”, he claimed, making Madara frown. “We can’t know because I haven’t deciphered the whole thing yet”, he argued, making Hashirama smile -a little mournful, maybe. “You always fail to recognize your own value”, the Senju gently scolded. Madara had always been willing to sacrifice himself for the greater good -a little too much so, if one asked Hashirama. His thumb caressed the skin beneath it, following the regal cheek-bone before gently starting to soothe the strained eye with medical chakra. 

He felt Madara relax as the burning in his eyes finally faded. He had been sitting in this room ever since the morning (how late was it, anyway?) attempting to decipher the ancient text as far as possible with these new eyes. Only now as it finally faded, he fully noticed the strain in his eyes and the fatigue in his body, causing his lids to fall halfway closed. “Why do you always have to be so very stubborn, hm?”, Hashirama murmured, amazed as the Uchiha kept utterly still, cheek still gently cupped in his tanned palm, the contrast of their skin making it seemingly impossible to tear his gaze away. 

“Look who’s talking”, Madara muttered back tiredly, no real bite in his voice, making Hashirama chuckle slightly as his other hand raised to tend to his right eye as to not be forced to move his fingers from Madara’s cheek.

For a single moment he could feel Madara rest his head in his palms, content to just let Hashirama deal with the outcome of his work and he felt something tighten in his chest -the very same of whatever had reacted to seeing the bloody tear drip down his face- as the proud Uchiha allowed him to witness this moment of weakness. The Sharingan faded and Madara’s eyes fell shut as he couldn’t supress a chuckle. “If my forefathers could see you here with me, they’d kill my bastard of a father to make sure I’d never been born in the first place.”

Hashirama smiled slightly. “You know I would never let them.”

Another chuckle escaped, this time more genuine, however, he didn’t get an answer. Instead, he caressed Madara’s cheekbones with his thumbs, his lashes casting shadows upon them in the flickering light. 

Divine in his beauty, overwhelming like being punched straight into the guts.

“Please don’t punch me through another wall”, he breathed.

His lips found Madara’s, marvelling at the softness, the perfectness beneath them and he didn’t even care whether he would be the Uchiha’ personal punching bag for the rest of his life. All that mattered was right here, right in front of him and he felt his heart cheer with joy when Madara didn’t force him off, didn’t even raise his head out of the hands grasping him ever so gently.

He didn’t even know when his lips had started to move, not before he felt the raven complete the pattern, ever so slightly opening his mouth and for the very first time in his life Hashirama truly understood the term of breathing another in. The world narrowed to nothing but this room, this moment and when he felt Madara’s fingers tangle in his hair; he opened his mouth, bidding the other to do the same as he slipped his tongue between his lips. The kiss started to get messier, lost was the soft, timid caution and was instead replaced by another, rougher perfection.

His hands didn’t leave Madara’s face, suddenly afraid it would be over once he broke the connection. Instead he swiped his tongue across the inside of Madara’s lower lip, relishing the taste before exploring further, swallowing something that might have been a sigh, had the raven’s lips not been sealed shut by him.

When Madara finally came to his senses, he roughly pushed the Senju off of him, his once tired gaze now sharp, eyes not closed in enjoyment but rather narrowed in anger. “What the fuck?”

“Yes”, Hashirama blurted, before first realising Madara obviously had asked something different than he had thought and second that he hadn’t even considered disagreeing. 

The raven’s eyes narrowed even further at him and he crossed his arms in front of his chest. “I’ll give you one chance to explain why you fucking kissed me, before I beat the everlasting crap out of you and feed your guts to my birds.”

Hashirama blinked, well aware he didn’t look too smart at the moment. “I… wanted to.”

 

“Stop running and get here, you fucking disgrace!”

Feeling something that might evolve into a tiny amount of panic, Hashirama decided following Madara’s order wasn’t the smartest thing to do right now. 

“I’ll rip you not one new one, but a dozen! Get here, you useless excuse for a Hokage!”

“I already told you, you’d make a better one”, Hashirama yelped, dodging a bunch of kunai that instead perfectly impacted a house.

“Is there a reason Madara-sama chases our Hokage all across the village?”, a Yamanaka kunoichi asked, making the Senju next to her turn to face her. “Ah. You weren’t part of the village yet, the last time”, he remembered. “No one really knows what happens between those two. Secret lovers, secret jutsu, secret family, secret illness… trust me when I say there’s nothing _not_ covered by the rumours, but no one really knows.” He couldn’t supress a grin. “The only thing _I_ know is that I wouldn’t switch places for all the money in the world.”

Watching Hashirama doge the Uchiha’s scythe with a whelp, the kunoichi crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I thought the Hokage is the strongest shinobi in the village.”

Her partner in conversation grinned. “Don’t let any Uchiha hear that or you’ll get a lecture about how they never really decided who truly is stronger since Madara-sama was severely ill during his defeat. And even though I’d be on Hashirama-sama’s side on that matter, I’m pretty certain running isn’t that bad of a plan right now.”

“I just couldn’t help myself!”

“Let’s see how much you care about _helping_ when I rip your fucking balls right off!”

Hashirama cried out in a rather un-Hokagely manner that didn’t do much to his reputation as the God of Shinobi. “But I want to have children one day!”

“Be glad then, I’m going to spare the world even more of your genetic dumbness!” The next kunai was aimed right at Hashirama’s crotch, making the Senju wonder if he could regrow his testicles in case they didn’t survive the day. Why did he always have to make Madara mad? He knew the raven would be angry for being kissed again, but somehow his attempts at explanation made it worse each time. Maye be should just keep his mouth shut afterwards. But then, at least this time Madara had waited for him at make an explanation instead of kicking him right into the next wall, so maybe he wasn’t just as mad as last time? But then, Madara at least hadn’t attempted to castrate him back then.

“Aniki!” It was his brother’s voice that finally got the older Uchiha to pause in his quest of nailing his best friend’s balls over a mantelshelf. “What is it?”

“If you could stop trying to murder Hashirama for just today, our fucking clan-meeting is due in fifteen minutes. Fourteen, actually.”

Madara frowned. No, the monthly meeting was scheduled after dinner and- he raised his gaze, noticing the sun had already started to set. He had been in the temple, deciphering the ancient stone plate all day! Right on cue, his stomach rumbled, however, he didn’t have time for dinner now. Anyway; Hashirama and whatever the fuck was wrong with him would have to wait until tomorrow. He had to get home and change before heading off to the gathering hall. Even though by now, Senju and Uchiha had gotten quite accustomed to each other, problems still arose on a regular basis. No one could -or should- forget generations of bloodshed within less than a year, after all. Even though everyone tried their best, in the end, it would be the children who’d build bridges. With the recently opened academy, the teams (even though only four of them at the moment) and every-day life, the friendships they forged would truly unite the clans once they grew up. But well, for now they had to deal with their differences and work further on overcoming them.

Madara entered the hall, making pace to his seat in front of the already assembled elders, Izuna next to him. “The meeting is started”, he declared, making a kunoichi -Katori, his third-grade cousin- step forth, looking grimly at him. He was aware her anger wasn’t aimed at him, though. “Hatako left me months ago for some younger bitch and now demands to be included in all decisions considering our son after not giving a fuck for nearly half a year. I won’t let him ruin our life further!” Madara nodded. He had business to settle.

After maybe half an hour, he took the kettle standing on a small table next to him, pouring a cup of tea for himself. Since these meetings could drag on for hours, it had gotten a habit of his to always have a pot of green tea next to him.

He took a sip. Katori’s issue had been dealt with, however; three more were on his schedule and he emptied his cup as another clan-member greeted him respectfully. “Madara-sama. I am glad we are finally living in peace with the Senju, however; one of them decided to open a bakery of all things. I wouldn’t care, but whenever the wind blows from north-west, everything smells of-” 

A thud interrupted him as his clanhead toppled face-first to the ground, where he stayed motionlessly. 

“Aniki!” Before anyone else had even moved, Izuna was already at his brother’s side, turning him around, starling when he found his breathing to quicken until he as nearly hyperventilating, pupils blown wide. Hashirama, he had to get Hashirama here, but he couldn’t just leave his brother! Next to them, Itsuko and Sarana appeared, as the crowd began to realise what happened. “No one leaves this place”, the old man ordered, making one of their people shout: “Where’s Makoto?”

Before he was able to get an answer, Madara’s flying breath came to a sudden hold as it stopped completely. Not even a full second later, Hashirama appeared next to him in a speed that had the tea pot knocked over by the gust of wind it caused. 

With a single cry of “Madara!” he went to his knees next to the Uchiha leader and his brother. Instantly, he lowered his palms onto his chest, going rigid for a single moment before gritting his teeth. His chakra rose, causing the wall behind him to splinter in his rage but he didn’t take his eyes off Madara.

He had to get his heart working again! Its last beat had been no more than fifteen seconds ago; Hashirama wouldn’t let it be the last! His palms forced medical chakra into the dying organism (not dead yet, he wouldn’t let him die, couldn’t live if he failed on this) to get the nonresponding organ working again. If he got the heart beating again, he could force oxygen into the bloodstream without needing the breathing to work again. 

A wooden clone appeared from his back, carefully taking Madara out of Izuna’s arms to settle him into its own, positioning him differently in order to offer Hashirama better access to the areas he needed to work with. The clone started forcing oxygen into Madara’s bloodstream to allow Hashirama to fully work on repairing the failing organism.

“If you leave me now, I’ll tear down the gates of hell and take you back with me”, the Senju promised, eyes not leaving the frail body for even the slightest moment. “You don’t… Don’t you dare to leave me now! I won’t allow you to!”

The body had been damaged on a mitochondrial level; the cellular respiration had been completely shut down, forcing all further processes into failure due to the lack of oxygen. Madara’s whole organism had failed within a matter of seconds. 

The clone stopped infusing oxygen; it did more harm than good since Madara’s body was unable to work with it. For a single moment Hashirama closed his eyes, forcing himself to think. Madara’s mitochondria were unable to process the oxygen that was needed by them to create the primary chemicals necessary for the intracellular energy transfer the whole organism relied on. Thus, all cells would inevitably die due to the lack of energy needed for survival. Which in return only led to one conclusion is he wanted to stop the inevitable. 

Within the blink of an eye, Madara’s whole body was covered in a layer of green chakra. Hashirama forced it into the Uchiha’s flesh, entering every single cell, releasing the energy needed for them to finally continue the vital processes. If Madara’s body was unable to create it on its own, he would offer whatever it took to stop cell death. 

His clone carefully watched Madara’s heart and breathing; if any of it started working again, he would have to cut it off, painful as it was. Since the mitochondria were unable to process oxygen, it would be harmful to let the oxygen-level in the blood rise without any possibility to work it off. Hashirama had to find a way to reset whatever had caused the intercellular processes to clog, but for now… he could at least keep Madara alive if nothing else.

A second clone separated from his back, looking around. Whatever it was that had happened, it had gone fast, probably no more than a minute before the cellular system had failed. Noticing the tea pot, the clone carefully lifted it. Even though a lot had been spilled as the kettle had been knocked over, more than enough remained. The clone spilled a small amount into his palm, licking it off carefully, before spitting it out. “Poison.”

The silence around them seemed to grow even heavier, all eyes rested on their Hokage whose chakra surrounded their clanhead fully, causing them to startle as Hashirama laughed in triumph a few minutes later. “Found it”, he breathed. Finally! All he had to do now was to get rid of the blocking molecules in the mitochondria-system and they would be able to convert oxygen again. Just a few more minutes, just a little further. 

When he got up, the Uchiha leader’s head lifelessly sunk to his shoulder, making Hashirama cradle him carefully. “I will take him home with me. And you… will _stay!_ ”

Giant roots broke out of the earth around them, engulfing the whole building as Hashirama left, making it impossible for anyone to escape unless they attempted to destroy them -which would certainly be prevented by the two wooden clones that had stayed behind, watching the crowd. There were only four people who Hashirama was certain had nothing to do with this; none of the elders would sink to such a low -especially since Makoto had been the one to order him over here- and Izuna would rather kill himself than his beloved brother. Anyone else, however… was a differed matter.

Hashirama didn’t know who had dared to attempt killing Madara -in such a manner, no less. Shinobi were exposed to poison from early childhood in order for them to develop an immunity to at least weaker ones and smaller amounts of the stronger. However; the amount that had been mixed with the tea had been so massive even his own system would have had suffered. A mouthful, maybe two was enough to kill anyone else.

Hashirama felt his gaze darken as anger overwhelmed him once more. Whoever did this… they would pay. He would make them pay!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s cyanide.  
> Because if I’m good at something, it’s researching on terminal illnesses, deadly poisons and WW2.


End file.
